From Russia With Love
by wordbombs
Summary: Light is an up and coming rap star in Tokyo. L is an up and gunning mafia star in Russia. What happens when their worlds collide? CRACK!
1. Vodka

Disclaimer: If I owned Death Note, there would be no chess unless 'strip' was associated with it. Oh Light-Kun, you're knight is threatening my queennnnnnnn.

Disclaimer Part 2: Kids, usually my work is usually rated M for language. This is not the case here. There is sex. Graphic sex. Not gonna tell you not to read it, I'm just warning you and your soul what's ahead.

* * *

L slammed the door to the outside world shut, fingers clenching tightly on the handle for a moment as the echo ringed down the hallway. He slowly relaxed his grip and strode over to his desk to angrily flip open the bottle of vodka and pour a double shot into the ever waiting glass on his desk.

He slammed it down like medicine and waited impatiently for the burn to sear its way down into his stomach where it pooled into a molten heat in his empty stomach. Taking his time this turn, he poured another and slammed it down again. Feeling better now that the icy heat was making its way through his system, he flicked on the radio with a finger tip and began to listen as the latest news from Paris poured in across long distance airwaves. From the civilian side of things, it seemed the work had gone well. Now, to check on the police side of things.

Cracking out fingers slowly, he rolled his neck once to release the day's tension before letting his fingers light upon the keyboard and go non-stop until he'd bullied his way past every defense on the Police Nationale's system, and began to read through the last 72 hours' reports. No mention of any suspicious actions on the ports. Good.

L leaned back in his chair, letting it tip back onto two feet before slamming back down and standing back up, wincing slightly as his body began to bear his weight again. His feet were covered in blisters from the rough leather that encased them, but he didn't have much of a choice in footwear in his current climate. Russia 's weather was a temperamental lover- at times heartbreakingly gentle with light winds and robin egg's blue skies, but at others she was cold, gray, and unforgiving.

L began to button up his jacket again, feeling the return of the stifling suffocation as he re-zipped the down-stuffed beast. Pulling up the hood and making sure his face was covered at least partially by the thick fur lining, he rechecked his baggy jeans for his guns, making sure that the layers protecting him from nature's wrath didn't stop him from being able to protect himself from the wrath of others. Satisfied he could draw all three pistols quickly, he opened up his door and glanced down the covered outdoor hallway. His neighbors' doors were all shut tight, not entirely unexpected for 3am, but L took no chances. He shut his door softly this time and locked it before slouching his shoulders and heading out towards his car.

The mantra of 'Fuck Moscow' ran through his head as he went, sidestepping frozen rats and wincing internally as the leather boots ran his feet ragged for a third time that day. He should really replace his thin cable socks that had so many holes in them they were practically worthless, but who had the time for sock shopping when you had a crime empire to run and people to kill?

Sliding into the seat of his car, he quickly tugged off his leather gloves with his teeth, needing to feel the wheel beneath his fingertips. Another reason why he hated winter- gloves diminished both the feeling of guns and cars, two of his favorite things. If they had also diminished the feeling of strawberries and vodka, L would have done away with the wretched things and that would be that. As it were, it wasn't practical to get frostbite on your trigger finger, so the gloves stayed.

He cranked the radio as he went, blasting a mind numbing mixture of Bad Balance to keep himself awake as he drove towards 'headquarters'. Speeding through the deserted late night streets, L felt a wave of melancholy as he stared at the empty world around himself.

The streets were dark, but the snow glistened under yellow street lights as he cruised into the warehouse district.

The world was quiet, hushed, paused. L wished he could capture this moment and let it reverberate forever. Let himself drown in an eternity of stillness, because the pressure of living was just too much. Let himself contemplate only one moment, one sliver of life instead of the overwhelming reality he dealt with everyday so that he could properly dissect all of the nuances of this one magical moment.

His self-induced trance ended as he pulled up alongside the seemingly abandoned warehouse, and he slid back into himself, blocking out any unnecessary details.

Instead of beauty, he noticed tracks in the snow, mud mixing in with muted white to create a Rorschach test of swirling footprints. Someone didn't wipe their tracks. Fuckers.

L quietly shut the ice cold metal door behind himself and slowly hunched down the long hallway, watching his shadow dance in front of him.

He heard a swell of voices from the open door that led into what had once been a factory floor and he paused to ascertain how many fuckwits he'd be expected to entertain. Five voices. Good, it was probably just the higher ups then.

Creeping in, he let his feet drag against the slick floor to announce his arrival. Four of the five faces turned to him, mixed looks of apprehension and amusement between them.

L hated that. Hated how the only two reactions to his presence were either fear or perverted entertainment. He nodded at the one man who had remained expressionless before settling himself down into a crouch on the ragged couch dragged in years ago from the staff room.

"Welcome, Lawliet." L waved a hand the greeting and was met with a chuckle.

"Gentlemen, we have good news. The fact that Lawliet is so graciously joining us means that the meth shipment went as planned, and there are no suspicions in the French police. I propose a toast." Vodka was passed around and L took the offered relief with two fingers, holding it delicately. He saw the man speaking send him a slight glare while the others took their glasses, so he cupped it properly in his whole fist.

Damn appearances.

They all slid the toxin down their throats at the same time, with many murmurs of praise to L as they went.

L just nodded curtly back at them, impatient for the man in charge to hand out his assignment so he could go home to his shitty apartment once again and drink more vodka and maybe eat an entire tiramisu.

"So boys, we have an order." There was a pause, and L tapped his fingers against the rough denim covering long underwear.

"Japan wants guns." L half listened as the details were run through, ignoring the inane questions passed around as they pretended to work. He'd be in charge of this order, same as he was in charge of every other major order. For them to pretend any different wasn't just a waste of time, it was annoying. And L had a tendency to get trigger happy when he was annoyed.

"Alright men, I think it's time to call it a night. We'll discuss this at the club tomorrow. Lawliet- stay with me." L ignored the rest of the men as they exited the cold room, and walked towards the one stately chair in the place where gray eyes identical to his own watched his approach.

"You need to work on getting to know them. I am not building this empire to have you dissolve it the moment you take over. Get off your fucking high horse." The last statement was hissed out as L looked away sulkily. He felt glove clad fingers grab his chin and he was forced back into a stormy eye lock.

"Listen to me Lawliet. You may be the best, you may be a genius, but you are one man. We are a family here, we are the **bratva**- brotherhood. Understand that and maybe I'll worry less about the day I die." L looked away, hoping he appeared properly cowed.

"Yes Father." A long-suffering sigh escaped his father's lips, but L was sure he'd drop the subject of L needing to know his fellow 'brothers' in arms for now.

"Good. Now, about Japan…"

* * *

Light Yagami pulled his hood lower down on his face before sliding into the classroom through the back. The black sweatshirt material hid him fairly well and he didn't receive any odd looks as he pulled the leather black notebook he was using for this class. Twirling his pen idly between his fingers as he waited for the professor to show, he glanced around at his fellow Tokyo University freshman.

He didn't think he'd ever felt more uncomfortable in his life.

The sweater sets on the girls were enough to set his teeth on edge, but it was the button ups finished with starch on the boys that were really freaking him out. He hadn't seen this much prep school since junior high.

Shit Japan, what the hell? Where was the vagrant youth he'd heard so much about?

The professor finally entered and took up his mantle at the lectern and Light breathed a sigh of relief as the lecture began and he could push out all thoughts of exactly how much he didn't belong here and just focus on memorizing the words.

An hour and a half flew by as Light absorbed the finer points of Japanese law and he was actually feeling relaxed enough to push his hood down as he left the classroom, forgetting exactly why it was he'd been hiding all day.

"Ah! It's Kira!"

Shit.

Light felt the stares of his fellow classmates and a few lacking a shame gene came forward and awkwardly asked him for autographs. Smiling thinly, he pressed pen to paper quickly before escaping to the waiting Escalade that he'd spotted as he'd entered into the courtyard.

Speed walking over to it, he dove into the back seat to a round of laughter.

"Fucking-a Kira, the bitches here are not hot. Dunno why you chose this school instead of J-U." Light glared at his manager, ignoring him as he pulled out his laptop and headphones, going back to re-arranging the new beat he was working on.

Light lost himself in the harsh beat slamming into his brain and he didn't even notice as they pulled up to his label's skyscraper, not acknowledging the outside world until the bright sunlight streaming through his window was replaced with florescent garage lights.

He shut down his laptop and slid it back into his backpack, hopping out the vehicle smoothly and tugging his hat to the side a bit before following his manager's back through the garage an into the elevator that would take them straight to the studio.

"You feeling okay, Kira? We gotta get this last beat down and then its vacation time baby. 'Course, you'll be stuck in school, but I'm going blow the hell out of Tokyo and hit up LA for a while…" Light gave a half grin, quirking up the left side of his mouth.

"I'm feeling fine. I just need to get this beat out before I lose it. I got the flow in my head, time to get it down on the tape." Light's manager nodded like he understood before going back to talking about Light's upcoming schedule.

"And then whenever you go on Winter break, we'll start the promotion of the album and you'll take Spring semester off to do TV appearances. We've already scheduled you to perform a few pieces for your collabs, which will lead in nicely to your new album's promotion. Tour starts beginning of summer, ends right in time for you to be back in school. Sound good?" Light nodded, tapping his fingers against the metal walls of the elevator as he ran through his rap again in his mind. Fuck he needed to get into the studio.

Finally escaping the metal box, he greeted his producers warmly before beginning to warm up and run through his last track with the sound producer. Finally hitting the inside of the studio he launched into his lyrics, running through the slams and boasts easily, feeling his breathing become easier as he ran through the lyrics, spitting out the slams and boasts naturally.

Light held the headphone closer to his ear as he ran up the hardest part of his album's last rap, words flying faster and faster until the chorus came back in and he stepped away from the mic to breathe.

He got the thumbs up from his producers and he stepped out to a warm round of applause and a bottle of Armand de Brignac chilled, waiting for him to pop it. Chuckling, he did and passed the bottle around as his team as they began to talk shit about how much the track would sell.

Light sat back against the soft black leather couch crammed into the studio and enjoyed the haze that came over him as his body released all of the stress that had come with putting together this album. Double sided, one version for Japan- one for the USA. He was making the biggest jump of his career while going to the best university in Japan to appease his father.

Mastering rapping in English hadn't been hard, most Japanese MC's grew up listening to the classics imported from the USA, and Light was a devoted follower of Jay Z, Nas, Ludacris, TuPac, and Run DMC. But the thought of joining them, competing against them- terrifying.

He shook the thought off and tuned in again as plans for the night were passed around.

"I'm hitting up a club, I don't know about y'all. I need to blow off some steam and steam off some blow, if you know what I mean." Light's sound producer glanced over at him.

"What you say Kira? You down?" Light nodded his chin up in affirmation and went back to drinking his champagne before slowly rolling up to standing, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Yah, I'll see y'all at the usual spot around 11. And don't bring anything sketch in, my dad's been talking up some big bust for weeks and warning me like I'm not fucking Kira. Still, if you're rolling high, you're ass is rolling solo- got it?" He was blown off, as he typically was after telling his crowd not to do anything illicit and the men went back to talking shit. Light rolled his eyes.

"Whatever bitches. I'm out. Yo, keys." He was passed his keys from his manager and he once again entered the elevator to bring him down to the garage so he could finally get behind the wheel of his baby- a black Mercedes that he'd bought after his first album hit gold three years ago. The smooth ivory leather seats wrapped around him as he sank in, thinking he should visit his family for once before heading home to get ready to go out to drop his IQ a few points.

Plan decided, he called up his sister to warn him mom to prepare an extra meal before he pulled out onto crowded Tokyo streets.

* * *

L meticulously took apart the gun and began to clean it slowly as the man tied up in front of him squirmed.

L didn't even look at him, instead focusing on reaching into every nook and erasing every spec of dirt from his beloved Magnum. The man let out a whimper, and L continued to ignore him. Satisfied with the condition of his gun, he pieced it back together, and readied it to shoot. The whimpers grew louder.

"You know why we've brought you here, don't you?" Vehement shakes of denial occurred and L felt the urge to just shoot the man and end his little interrogation session early. Lucky for the man, he had principles.

"You tried to sell us out to the Italians, that's why. I have it on good authority that you were planning on letting a whole shipment of prime retail just go missing and mysteriously wind up in Italy. Now…that's not what I told you to do with that shipment, now is it?" Again the non-verbal denial.

L walked over slowly and gently removed the duck tape, causing as little pain as possible. The man stared hopefully up at L and L smiled back.

The man's head whipped with a crack as L's palm struck his cheek, the slap ringing in both their ears. Another whimper. L was disappointed, he'd hoped those would stop after he removed the duct tape.

"Who was it who initially contacted you to derail the shipment?"

"N-no one! It was an accident! There was no deal with the Italians, I swear." L pulled out a razor blade, and ran it down the table he was sitting on, watching as it dug into the wood.

"Try again." The man's eyes were wide with fear, showing off popping blue veins the whites of his eyes.

"It..It was the Marciano's! They told me you had struck a deal with them, that you wanted it to happen. I thought…I thought you were making a move against your father, L I swear, please! They had your mark on the papers, I thought…I thought you were finally taking over. I'm so sorry!" L heaved out a sigh. Looks like he wouldn't get to use his razor after all.

L left the room as the blood was still trailing red tears down the wall behind the now-deceased mafia member, nodding at the blond lounging against the doorway.

"Mihael." Mihael took a last drag on his cigarette before flicking it to the floor and stubbing it out under a thick sole.

"L." L led the blond down the dingy hallways of the warehouse, opening up a door at random and expectantly looking at Mihael to enter. He did and L followed, shutting the door behind them.

"What have you got for me?" A plain envelope was thrown into waiting hands and L tore into it, examining what Mihael had gathered on Japan.

"It's going to be a tough gig. Their police is really riled up over the drugs coming in and out, guns are going to be even harder. Still, it's doable for you. Only for you, but that's the way you like it." L nodded in vague acknowledgement of the blonds' slightly envious compliment as he scanned through the list of ports and airports in Japan and the security related to each one.

"Let Japan know they'll have their guns within the next six weeks. And I'm demanding an extra 20,000 American for every one of my men that I'm going to lose pulling off this shit headed job. Let my father know I'll be out of Russia doing research and making connects for the next three weeks." Mihael nodded and lit up another cigarette.

"And Mihael?" Blue eyes glanced up at him, and L traced the scars over one of those beautiful eyes with his own.

"Stop smoking, it's bad for you." Mihael's laughter followed him out as he pulled up flights on his phone.

Tokyo it was.

* * *

Light slid into the VIP section with a bottle of rose champagne in his hand, weaving through the undulating crowd with seasoned ease. He tossed the bottle to a hanger-on of his crowd, some cousin of one of his producers, to open and sat back as he observed the party going on around him.

Most of the men he'd come with where drunk off their asses and trying to pick up girls, or drunk off their asses and off with their already picked up girls. Light had a pleasant buzz going, but he wasn't so far gone as to start groping around for midnight company.

A song of his own came on and Light winced as the DJ began to bastardize it by cutting it with some pop bullshit. Light frowned. Seriously, they were mixing his track with Misa Misa?

Making a mental note to call the club owner tomorrow and demand that it never happen again, Light watched the grinding that his music inspired. Kira- responsible for hangovers and babies born out of wedlock everywhere.

Light grabbed his glass of the champagne and headed back down the stairs to the main club, thinking maybe the people watching would be better down there.

Light knew he was a bit of a loner for a rap star, but he just couldn't get into the madness that descended around his crew whenever they were presented with a strobing light and bone shaking bass line mixed with scantily clad women.

Besides, it was his intellect and isolation combined with a serious affinity for flipping words around a rhythm that had led to his success in the first place. His crowd might be a bunch of morons when their insides were pickled by alcohol, but usually they were intelligent, fiercely clever, and able to appreciate Light's unique vision for his brand. Kira was a hardcore, unique rapper that followed on the trail left by the originators of Japanese hip hop by spitting out lyrics that simultaneously rocked Japanese society at the core while changing the nature of the very language.

Unfortunately for Light, Kira was also expected to be a party animal. But Light didn't mind _too _much, the people watching helped with his lyrics and he could even be pulled out his existential ennui by enough alcohol every now and again, so Light continued to go out without much complaint.

Reaching the bar now, Light settled into a seat, the one next to him taken up by a hunched over man in a white wife beater. Shooting the man a weird look for wearing such informal attire in a really upscale club, he waved the bartender over and put in an order for a shot of vodka. Then Light ordered a second one. Just in case.

"Big drink for a little boy." The voice next to him surprised Light, it was low and lightly accented- Russian?

"I can handle myself, thanks." Gray eyes met his in amusement and Light tensed as the stranger turned towards him and Light got a full view of the man.

Muscle was the first thought Light had. The man was much bigger than his hunched posture initially led Light to believe. Though Light was relatively sure he was around the same height as the man, the other had pounds of muscle on him- arms pushed passed Light's easy tone and into the realm of functional muscle. Those were arms used to lifting heavy boxes and able to throw lesser men around.

The next thought was to trace the tattoos decorating those arms, simple green ink was the only color, but the images were intricate- a gorgeous women on the left arm with a slurry of Russian underneath it along with dates.

A memorial tattoo.

"Can you?" Light heard amusement in the rough voice and he tried to contain the shiver that wanted to be let up his spine.

"You're obviously foreign, so I'll forgive you for not knowing- but I'm a bit of a big deal around here. I've been handling this kind of liquor since I was 16. It's a perk to being a famous rapper."

A muted chuckle met his boast and gray eyes flicked up to mix with amber ones.

"If only one could buy that kind of forgiveness in Church." Light smiled thinly, beginning to feel uncomfortable. The stranger was toying with him.

"Only for the first time, after that I do demand tidings." The man's hand brushed lightly over his own as he reached and took Light's second shot, tipping it back and Light's eyes followed the curve of his long, pale neck as he swallowed.

"And how do you take your worship?" Light was incredibly glad that the club was dark and the bar had been cast in virtually impenetrable shadows by the lights flashing on the dance floor. All the better for no one being able to see the blush that was creeping up his neck at the low accented monotone that was just so damn…

Enveloping.

"Mostly record sales, but you can also buy my posters or clothing line." Light tried to sound unaffected, but the strange man's eyes were more intoxicating than the vodka left in his shot glass.

"And if I want to buy a private performance?" Light swallowed hard at the implication and the man leaned in, soft lips against the shell of his ear. "I'm in town for a few weeks on business only- and I guarantee your shit won't end up on anybody's tabloid. Meet me out back."

He got up, tossed a large wad of cash on the bar table and exited, sliding on a large fur lined jacket as he went.

Light stared after him, shocked.

The man had just suggested that Light meet him out back, abandoning his drunken crew in preference of going to a most likely sketchy hotel and getting fucked into the mattress.

And Light was considering it.

He'd never been one to too closely examine his own sexuality, his lyrics were often explicit enough on his preference of being with women, and he had a tough image viciously protected by his PR team, so much so that no one had ever questioned why Kira flew solo.

But Light knew he was attracted mostly to minds and very occaisonally dangerously sexy men in bars with tattoos running the lengths of their muscled arms. Taking a last shot for courage, Light told the bar tender to keep his tab open for his crew and to give himself a large tip, before shooting off out the back of the club.

* * *

L waited outside, breathing in the cold air slowly- letting it refresh himself after the torture he'd endured just to get a decent drink. He hadn't had time to contact the underground proprietors of his preference of establishment yet, so he'd gone straight to the first place he'd seen that might have quality vodka.

And the vodka had been good. The cute boy playing gangsta next to him in name brand labels had been even better.

L smirked and eyed the door he was expecting to open soon. The boy had been wrapped in fashionable clothing, looking as pristine as a musician in Japan would be expected to. His casual swagger had attracted L the moment the boy had set down the stairs from the VIP, and L was glad he'd decided to approach the boy. He'd be a great start to enjoying Tokyo.

The door opened and L enjoyed the slight flush on the youth's face as they met eyes. L just inclined his head and slid his hands into his pockets as they padded down the alley. L gracefully jumped the fence, needing only a few brief moments on the metal to scale the ten foot obstacle. He landed easily and turned.

"Come on. You don't want to be followed, and neither do I." The boy cast a cautious look over his shoulder, before scaling up- taking much longer than L had.

Oh well, it's not like it was a part of the boy's professional skill set, unlike L.

As soon as the boy had dropped besides L, L took off, weaving carefully through the cars parked in the back lot until he came to his own- a rusty red Honda he'd bought straight off a lot with cash upon touchdown in Tokyo. It was a piece of shit, but no more than L's normal car and it drove fine. All that mattered.

The boy slid in beside him shutting his door and glanced at L nervously.

"So…what was your name?" Ah damn, L knew he'd been forgetting something.

"Lawliet. Yours?" A slight smile graced Adonis lips.

"Light." Ah, L got the joke.

"Good, now hush while daddy drives." Light, the appropriately named pseudo gangsta, began to fiddle with the radio and L let him, nodding in approval as a rough voice came over the airwaves to a steady rhythm. L listened passively, letting the clever word plays in the lyrics tickle at the back of his mind as he searched for a hotel of no particular quality.

"That's me." Light said as the song ended and another one with a catchier beat began.

"This?" L said, glancing over and frowning at the crooning smooth voice came out from the speakers, singing something about a cell phone. L seriously re-considered where he was about to stick his dick, before remembering that popular music was not only _no_t a sexually transmitted disease but it was also not contagious.

"No, before." L arched an eyebrow.

"Good shit." Light nodded succinctly, but L caught the self-pleased smile on the younger boy's lips as they pulled into the parking lot of a neon lit up hotel.

L captured the youth's lips the moment they were inside a room, pushing him down onto the mattress and demanding his tongue's right to explore at leisure. Access was granted and L tasted the sweet aftertaste of champagne and vodka as he twirled his tongue around to a chorus of moans.

He slid his hand up small swells of muscle underneath the boy's t-shirt, lightly tracing the small line of hair that ran from his belly button into his boxers. He pulled away and Light shrugged out of his own jacket, tossing the expensive leather piece onto the ground without regard. L had the honors of pulling off Light's shirt, before he began to explore down the tan chest with his mouth-pausing only to give attention to hardened pink nipples on his way south.

He slid off a belt that had a large ornate cross as the closure with the same regard Light had shown for his jacket and then toyed with the opening to the other man's jeans.

Light growled at him and L slid them off, before taking off his own wife beater- jacket long forsaken. He felt Light's eyes tracing his chest and L leaned forward to press a kiss to Light's neck.

"Like what you see?" Light nodded once before beginning to run his fingers up the muscled plateau of L's exposed chest. He seemed fascinated by the various tattoos that decorated the firm chest and L straddled him so Light could better explore. The boy leaned up and gently kissed up from L's abs to where L met him and kissed him hard.

L pulled away suddenly and took off Light's boxers with one motion, leaving the boy's erection red and attention demanding in its sudden appearance.

"Spread 'em." A half-laugh escaped Light's lips, but he followed orders and L pulled off his own jeans, not having bothered with underwear after escaping the ice box of a country he called home. Light groaned at the sight of L leaning over him, hard and excited and L took the opportunity of Light's mouth being open to slide a finger into the boy's mouth. Light sucked willingly, and L could just picture his mouth wrapped around himself. L kissed the boy's neck again, sucking and marking viciously. Once his finger was deemed an acceptable level of wet, L pulled it out and gently ran his fingers against the boy's entrance.

Light gave out a hiss as L suddenly pressed down on the inside of one thigh as he slid his finger in, working the slick digit in. L continued to stretch with just one before grabbing the luggage bag he'd carried in with him from the car and groping around for the Astroglide. Finding it, he methodically lubed up three of his fingers, making sure Light was watching with wide amber eyes. Returning to the spread out man in front of him, he slid two fingers back in, making sure to stroke upwards and find that one spot hard.

"Ah, shit Lawliet!" L chuckled, sliding the fingers in a gentler rhythm as he continued to massage Light's prostate, turning the man into a passionate mess held together only by the control L was maintaining over the other's arousal. He was not going to let Light come until he said, and that was that.

Deeming the boy acceptably prepared, L didn't pause at all in his fingering before he slid himself in, not giving Light the time to tense up. His trickery was rewarded with a slurry of cusswords as L continued to hit Light's prostrate, this time without his fingers. L grabbed the boys legs and led them to wrap around his waist as he leaned down and captured Light's mouth in a dance that mimicked the one their bodies were engaged in.

L continued his thrusting, feeling his own body tensing as it longed to let loose and fill Light. He began to stroke the brunet's erection, lightly stroking before grabbing hard to a hiss. Light's fingers were digging permanent tracks into the mattress and the sight of the boy so obviously in pleasure stirred on L's own climax, and he came hard after Light, only barely catching himself from falling onto the younger boy.

Disentangling himself, he fell onto his side of the queen sized bed and glanced over at Light, who was still seeing stars above his head.

L had the feeling he would like Tokyo.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Anddddddd I just lost the respect I'd worked so hard to achieve on this website.

Pre-emptive Q&A time!

Q. Fucking a wordbombs, Light's a rapper?

A. Yah bitch, wanna fight about it? Just kidding, just kidding. Yes, he's a rapper. Yes, there's a back story. Yes, I'll explain it and try to keep it vaguely in character.

Q. Fucking a wordbombs, L's a mafia boss?

A. No, dipshit. L's a mafia boss's son. .

Q. Fucking a wordbombs, do you have any standards?

A. Hahahahaha, no.

Q. Wordbombs...Tale of Two Death Notes. Good Cop Bad Cop. Change of Circumstances. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?

A. Don't drink and ffn.

Q. I hate you now.

A. Not a question.

Q. How is this going to affect your real stories that have plot and characterization and vague attempts at good writing?

A. It's not. This is my speed, my whip-crack-a-lack, my 'write it when I can't physically bear to write anything else' story. Because of that, it will probably be updated quite frequently, but unless there's a huge outcry for more (hint hint) it will not be my top priority. My priority is a) ToTDN 2) GCBC and #) Circumstances Change- the sequel to CoC.

Also, just so you know, this is dedicated to the lovely **halfpromise** who encouraged its inception in every way. She is, however, an author with standards- so go read her fic _A Cure for Love_ which updates frequently and is amazing. Also, it's vaguely cannon, unlike this hot glittery mess.

I love all of you! Kisses!


	2. Neon

Disclaimer- If I owned Death Note, Light would have ended up with a tattoo of L's ensignia on his redacted

* * *

L felt the fingers tracing the large tattoo on his back even before he heard Light's change in breathing, indicating newly achieved awareness, if not yet outright alertness. He left the soft tips caress the artwork penned into his skin and he relaxed under the soft touch.

"What is it?" L contemplated answering as petal lips fell down across the back of his neck, landing among the pushed aside black forest that was his hair.

"St. Basil's Cathedral." Light kissed his pale shoulder softly and L turned around capturing those lips for his own, sucking on them hard. He rolled on top of the boy, enjoying the purrs he received as kissed softly around the boy's face.

"That's in Moscow, isn't it?" L murmured an assent as he kissed down the jaw in front of him. The boy had the bone structure of a statue, and L was going to enjoy it while he could.

"Yes, as am I, since you're obviously fishing for information." Light grinned at him wickedly.

"It worked, didn't it? Besides, I like you accent- I was just making sure I was placing it correctly." L was about to ask whether the boy liked his accent more when he was coming and moaning out Light's name into his ear in hope of a round two when his phone went off.

"Excuse me." He hopped out and answered it, making sure not to hold it away from his ear like usual. This was mostly likely not going to be a conversation the boy should overhear, even if it was in a language he didn't speak.

"Oi, L, how's the Tokyo ass- and I mean that in a non-gender specific way- treating you?" Mihael's low baritone entered his ear, vibrating slightly through the bad connection.

"Hot and tight, Mihael. What's up?" Mihael was perhaps the only member of the 'beloved bratva' whose brains L wouldn't have shot out for making such a comment, and the blond continued to push L's limits knowing so. L tolerated it only because Mihael was indispensable as an ally- a mind almost as sharp as L's with an aim that was sharper.

There was also the fact that Mihael had saved his life and endured a body-length scar for his trouble, but L saved that particular rumination for after a full bottle of Russia's special water.

"Big Daddy wants you to know that the guns are ready. Our manufacturers shipped them early- tell the Japs they'll be there in three weeks max, depending on how long it takes you to set up a travel situation. He also tells you to watch out for the geishas and then mentioned something about the 80's and cocaine. Really didn't follow his line of thought on that one."

"Will do. And Mihael?" A muffled reply came out, struggling around the object L could just see between the man's lips.

"Yah boss baby?"

"Stop smoking. It's bad for you." He shut the phone and threw it back into the pile of clothes it had come from before rejoining the naked brunet on his bed.

Light was just staring at him.

"What?"

"You're accent is very, _very_ sexy." L grinned and dropped back down onto the naked rap star in his bed.

"Is it now?"

* * *

L dropped him off five blocks away from his apartment on Light's request three hours before dawn- wary of any lingering paparazzi looking for a shot of him coming back from a night of partying.

L just captured his lips once more, bruising them as he covered Light's mouth.

"Can we ah…" Light trailed off, not sure how one went about arranging a sequel to a gay one night stand. Surprisingly enough, this was an area in which he was not experienced.

"I'm in town for about three weeks. I'll find you."

And with that, Light was left to walk the remaining blocks home as L's car disappeared down the street.

Light considered the number of ways in which he had been ridiculously stupid that night. He had abandoned his people without so much as a word, he had had wild sex three times with a man whose full name he was not privy to and who could be an international mobster for all he knew. He had actually fallen asleep afterward his first performance, and then woken up two hours later to give an only thing Light could pat himself on was that they had used protection, although that certainly hadn't been Light's decision, he'd been too busy burning up under the pale man's hands to think that coherently at the time.

Light shook his head and was relieved to see that the outside of his upscale apartment complex was empty of prying reporters as he entered.

It was time for sleep before the adrenaline he was running on now ran out and left him empty and aching.

He entered into his spacious loft, leaving the lights switched off. Instead he navigated by the lights of Tokyo still entering his apartment, laughing at the hour as if to say, What now mother fuckers? Our shine never ends!

Light could relate to that, so he let it slide.

Checking the phone he'd abandoned at home he saw the number of missed messages from his little sister asking to go out with him.

Haa.

Never.

Light shrugged out his t-shirt that was crumpled from Lawliet's rough treatment earlier and stripped down to boxers before collapsing on his bed.

Lawliet…

Light felt asleep dreaming of low monotones and the spiraling towers of Moscow.

* * *

L had flicked through the Google search for 'Light + rapper' for a few moments before re-directing his search to 'Kira'.

Images of his brunet lover were pulled up, most of Light looking serious and clothed in appropriate hip hop fashions. A few were of him at a younger age, smiling brightly into the camera while wearing neon colored oversized t-shirts and looking more adorable than hardcore while surrounded by other similar, but less attractive teenage boys. L glanced curiously at the younger images and found out that Light had once been a part of a boy band- hip hop style. Named 'Death Note'.

L had to laugh at himself. Gods, he'd taken an 18 year old into his bed, not only that but he'd taken in one that had his own clothing line.

Fuck it if L didn't know how to choose 'em.

Shutting the laptop shut, L considered his options for the night.

He wanted to hit the streets and do some recon before the yakuza caught wind that 'L' was in the area. Once his name started getting thrown around, shit tended to get real fast.

He pulled one knee into himself tightly and thought hard about where to go, and exactly what he needed to sketch out. Unconsciously, his other leg joined its partner, so that he was in the exact same 'thinking stance' his father had hissed at him his whole life to knock off.

It wasn't proper after all.

L ran through his options and decided upon hitting the red light district and monitoring the activities of the low level flunkies before making another move. Growing up in the mafia had taught L several useful lessons, from how to bring a grown man to tears with just screwdriver and some spare time, to how to dismantle an engine with the same. But one truth that was universally true from the Chinese triads to the Italian originators of organized crime was that flunkies showed the health of a mafia. They better the flunkies, the more that could be expected out of the higher ups. And with a job this dangerous, L did not want to be dealing with idiot higher ups.

Deciding on a few key spots under the ninkyo dantai's control, he slid on a black leather jacket more appropriate to the weather than his typical snow-proof choice. It wasn't because he gave half a fuck, or even a quarter of a fuck about appearances, but another lesson of the bratva was never be conspicuous. Blend. Deceive. Then shoot in the face.

L headed out of the hotel room he'd chosen after clearing out of the one he'd fucked Light in, keys in hand. He threw his stuff into the trunk of his car, knowing he wouldn't be returning for checkout in the morning.

The drive was short to the bad side of town, the way it always seemed to be. L parked his car and headed out into the foggy night air that spirited through his hair and clung lovingly to his form as he walked through the streets.

No matter how bright and distinct the city surrounding a red-light district may be, L always found the sights the same once he crossed into his own territory. Neon flashes that could be almost artistic in other areas of Tokyo leered out at him grotesquely, promising the fulfillment of every carnal and base desire he could dream up, and even a few he couldn't.

He ignored them, lest he received a headache for staring too long into the hot pink abyss and find it staring back, and instead began pounding down the street to his first location.

Glancing at the bouncer with a well-practiced arched eyebrow, L breezed in and hit the bar, eyeing the vodka choices.

Damn Russian genes and his high metabolism that made it so easy to lose himself in a bottle, only to find it the drunken haze burn off as fast as it had come on.

If L hadn't been such a self-loving man, he would have been mad at his seeming inability to keep himself in the warm blanket that was inebriation.

As it were, he had a very high self-esteem bred into him as the heir to a multi-million, albeit horribly illegal, organization.

Or at least that was what his father kept telling him. L thought his self-esteem might actually lie more in his ability to kill twenty men within a minute of entering the room and to bed famous rap stars, but really it was all subjective.

L took another shot. The bartender looked at him, impressed. L ignored him and frowned into his empty glass. He didn't have to wait long to perk up, however, as he caught the tail-end of a conversation as two men settled in next to him.

"- hit went really well, no tracks." L quirked his head towards the two, tuning them in over the general humming of conversation in the bar.

"Yah, boss is sure to be pleased with that. But hey, we're not supposed to talk about this shit outside of the… office, let's just drink." L smiled.

They were good flunkies. There really was no other train L valued more in flunkies than silence. He had a tendency of viciously ending employment contracts with loud flunkies.

And since bratva contracts ended at death…

He paid his tab and moved on, this time entering into a strip club further down the block. By the looks of things, it promised to be a veritable treasure trove of medium level flunkies. L couldn't wait to get pillaging.

Preferring something strawberry and fun this time, L carted off his fizzy drink with a limp wrist from the bar. He marveled at the tapioca balls at the bottom, wondering how they didn't dissolve in the alcohol. Japan, the genius never ended.

Settling down in a chair of questionable cleanliness, he watched the undulating performers for a moment before beginning to scan the room for tell-tale signs of mafia. A group caught his eye in the corner, a dark mass of men in suits with polished shoes that could be mistaken for businessmen relaxing together, except for the fact that it was a Saturday night and businessmen didn't tend to have body guards behind them flexing muscles.

L could care less about the body guards, he'd shot better men before his voice had cracked. Slouching up, he slid behind them under the guise of getting closer to the half naked teenagers currently trying to become one with a metal pole.

Sliding behind the men, he heard laughing and drunken rambling. They were talking in a specific code at times, but it wasn't exactly subtle. After a few moments, L had deduced that there was a drug store in the back that sold medium quality cocaine and the one in the middle was the proprietor- probably a son of one of the Oyabun's cousins.

On the flunky scale, L would rate them a 6. And that was because he was feeling generous due to the absolutely delicious drink he was slurping down.

He gathered notes in the back of his head almost instinctively, finding it boring if he put too much focus into his task.

He continued to watch as another suited man approached the group, to a rowdy greeting. Unusual, as the newcomer wasn't naked. L sat up straighter to view the man.

And almost lost a mouthful of tapioca balls.

Kira was in the house.

* * *

Light had woken up around noon. He hadn't gone on his run, hadn't even gotten out of bed for another good half an hour after he woke up.

Instead he had basked in the post glow that came after a good lay, enjoy even the after sting of Lawliet's bite marks down his neck and chest. He bit his lip again at the thought of the Russian mystery man, enjoying the warm flush that ran a straight line from his stinging neck to his groin.

After that he had decided it was time for a shower.

Afterwards, the day had been normal. Finish homework and readings, cycling in his in-apartment gym while he did so to make up for the missed run, eating ordered-in Thai food.

Then the call from the NPA had come in.

Light had listened to Matsuda as he listed out the details of the bust they wanted his help in pulling off, and Light had agreed before going into his closet and pulling out a navy blue suit with thin gray pinstripes running the length, making Light appear statuesque and elongated.

Or so the sale girl had gushed while Light handed over his Onyx card.

Making sure to leave the white silk shirt underneath casually unbuttoned, Light headed out to dinner with one of his yakuza 'contacts', a PR exec working at Light's label. Light had made enough subtle comments about needing to a new hook up to get the man to drop a few names.

As Light had expected, the names matched up with the ones Matsuda had asked him to look into, and Light had headed off in his black Mercedes to the shadier side of town, relying on his smile and fame to ensure his own safe welcome.

Now, he was entering the strip club he'd been told to grab some blow from so the NPA could build their case. It was a dangerous game he was about to play, but it was one he'd played several times before. The yakuza never seemed to pin that the leak of their information on the charismatic young rapper, and as far as Light knew they didn't even suspect him.

After all, Kira was pro-drugs. His lyrics said so. They missed the finer points where he raged that drugs should be legalized because they were recreational and no more dangerous a personal choice than sky-diving, and that the illicit trade of drugs kept worthless, _dangerous_ criminals in business, but details- who needed them? Not the yakuza.

And so he approached the group of laughing men, recognizing a few from the PR's description.

"Ah! Kira! We were told you'd be stopping by." The slightly drunken man in the middle, the one Light assumed to be the leader, leaned forward and winked. "Big order, eh rock star?" Light laughed and patted his pocket.

"Fucking huge man, you know how the bitches run a man out." His comment gained a round of laugher and he was told to order a drink, on the house. Light was about to do so when a flash of white caught his eye. He glanced up and met familiar gray eyes from across the room. Light stared in shock.

"Lawliet?"

The man was crouched in a chair a few feet behind the group of yakuza, for all intents and purposes enjoying the show. He arched an eyebrow at Light and the group turned towards Kira's distraction.

Confused looks passed over the men's faces except for the one who had been inviting Light to a drink. Light believed his name was Sato Haruko. He stared at Lawliet with a dumbfounded look, jaw gaping open.

Lawliet waved.

"You're…." Lawliet leapt up suddenly, bounding over the sticky floor easily.

"Say my name and I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to you." The threat wasn't whispered, but it was low and unintelligible to anyone but Sato and Light through virtue of Lawliet's accent.

"Hello, Light." Light stared. Lawliet stared back.

In the distance, Light could hear fate laughing at him.

* * *

Lawliet followed Light and Sato up a flight of stairs in the back of the club into his office. Light kept glancing back at him, but he seemed completely nonchalant as he slouched up. Light noticed the muscles that he'd been fantasizing about were once again covered cleverly, this time by a white sweater and black jacket.

Light felt wrong-footed. He'd expected to deal with boorish yakuza members all night, not Lawliet. He'd expected to experience a low-grade of anxiety that came with any drug purchase, even though it was police approve and funded. He wasn't expecting the inside-paralyzing panic that was gripping him every time he saw Lawliet behind him. What in the hell was he doing here?

They entered the office and Light sat down in one of the plush chairs in front of the stately wooden desk quickly, lest his legs decide to give out on.

Lawliet dropped into his gracefully with one leg resting up by his chest, the other sprawled out. On anyone else, the posture would look either needlessly suggestive or give off an air of stupid overconfidence. On Lawliet, it looked natural. And terrifying.

His dark eyes flicked to Light, and Light looked away quickly. He was entering into a scenario where he didn't know all of the variables, and it grated on him. Judging by Sato's reaction to Lawliet, Lawliet was a dangerous man. But Light didn't need third party confirmation for that one, he'd seen the scars and tattoos and paid worship to them repeatedly.

But he hadn't imagined this. Hadn't imagined seeing him in a yakuza-run strip joint casually sucking down a mixed drink out of an oversized straw that was decorated in hearts.

And even if he had been able to imagine that, he certainly wouldn't have been able to imagine the simpering and overly anxious nature Lawliet's presence had inspired in the yakuza now settling behind his desk.

"So, Kira, what's the order? Full sized bag?" Kira glance back at Shato and nodded.

"You're a generous buyer Kira, I heard you just bought the same amount last week from another one of our clubs- you're not reselling our merchandise, are you?" He let out a little laugh and Lawliet lunged forward grabbed the label of the man's suit and dragged him across the desk.

There was nothing dramatic about it. It appeared merely as if Lawliet had had the sudden urge to see the property of inertia in real time, and try it out by sliding a mafia man across a desk.

"Don't make aspirations like that at my friend, Sato. Now- get the merchandise. He gets the house deal." Sato snapped to and slid off his desk before quickly hurrying out.

"And I'll be checking for quality!" Lawliet called after him, looking unconcerned as he pulled a peppermint out of his jackets pocket and popped it in his mouth.

"Law…Lawliet, what the hell?" Lawliet ignored him and continued to work his mouth around his peppermint. Light turned angrily to him before he saw Lawliet's eyes flick up into the corner and back to him.

Light re-settled into his seat and a few moments later glanced over to where a dim red light was barely visible. Cameras. And not police ones, because Matsuda hadn't had enough evidence to take such measures yet. Lawliet was protecting him from giving away the fact that he felt suspiciously close to a fish that had woken up, found itself in a desert, and then started chatting up a cactus.

Light crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently against the carpet. Sato returned and passed the generously stuffed bag over towards Light. Lawliet leaned forward and snatched it from him, unwrapping it and licking his pinky quickly before dipping it into the cocaine. He put the finger back into his mouth, pink tongue swirling casually and picking the white powder up as if it were pixie stick dust.

"Where's this from?" Sato winced slightly.

"Is it not up to quality…?" Lawliet gave him a blank stare, showing only impatience at his question not being answered.

"It's from the Colombians, same as always. We did the deal through a British dealer- got us a full caseload." Lawliet nodded, and flicked a tongue towards the side of his mouth where a small trace of powder was left.

"Goes by Matt?" Sato nodded.

"Don't do business with him, he laces weird shit in his stuff for kicks. This is clean though. I'll arrange a better dealer through some contacts. Pay the man, Kira." Light fisted over the cash that would eventually make its way back to him through his police reimbursement, but Lawliet reached out and took half of it, shoving it roughly back into Light's hand.

"You get my discount, Kira. Let's roll." L launched up again from his chair with the grace of a jungle cat, and Light tried not to shake to much as he followed suit and slid the bag of cocaine into his pocket, feeling the uncomfortable weight against his thigh.

"W-wait! You can stay! Everything on the house! Any girls you want in a private room!" Light had been offered this kind of service before as he made his rounds because of his celebrity status being so good for business, but Sato wasn't looking at him as he stuttered out the offer through trembling lips.

"Not tonight. We have to get Kira here down to the Roppongi district so he can enjoy the rest of his night with your fine product. And remember Sato…" Lawliet turned around and pointed his finger in an awkward imitation of a gun.

"If anyone finds out I'm in Tokyo before I want them to….Bang!" He 'pulled the trigger' and Light swore he was about to watch a 40 year old yakuza die of a heart attack.

Sato's promises of his silence followed them down the stairs.

* * *

Light kept glancing at L on their way out, and the wounded puppy look in his eyes was grating on L's already shot, gutted, and fried nerves.

"Yes, Light?"

"Who the hell are you?" The question was not entirely unexpected after the performance Light had just been witness to, but it bothered L and his horribly mistreated nerves nonetheless.

"Lawliet Loginov, son of Alexei Loginov, son of Alexandar Loginov, son of- " Light cut him off with a frustrated growl that sounded suspiciously close to a noise he'd made in bed the night before.

Hmm. Good thoughts.

"I didn't ask for a genealogy lecture, I asked who the hell you are to be ordering yakuza around and making recommendations on drug dealers." The boy hissed out his words through tight teeth as they headed down the street and L just gave him a small smile in return. He wondered if the boy was even paying attention to where they were going, it appeared he was just following L.

"I told you. I'm Lawliet Loginov." Light looked as though he had either an intense desire to stomp off flat-footed and over dramatically, or that he really had to sneeze.

Neither came to pass, instead the boy diffused whatever rage he had and instead he squared his shoulders and tilted his head up.

L filed away that Light adjusted his posture to gain confidence.

"And what,_ exactly_, does that mean? Who is Lawliet Loginov to be ordering around…"Light glanced around them again, and L smirked slightly as he watched the boy check around for eavesdroppers. Like L would let such a thing happen.

"Who is he to be ordering around yakuza? You had Sato Haruko, a well known yakuza with a lot of power, practically shitting in his pants at the sight of you. How in the hell do you explain that?"

L shrugged and took to walking again. Light followed.

"First of all, the fact that you think Sato Haruko is anybody indicates to me that you should never again pull the stupid little stunt you were pulling in there. You're lucky I was there, they were going to break your kneecaps." He heard a missed half step, before Light's pace quickened so the boy caught up to his side. Feeling Light's coat brushing against his own leather was reassuring, and L felt his nerves become a little more soothed. Now all he needed was a generous pouring of aloe Vera for the soul- vodka.

"I don't know what you mean." L searched his pockets again and came up missing for another sweet to occupy his mouth. Damn. Fuck him for forgetting to stock up. Of course, he hadn't known at the time that he was going to have to stop himself from speaking so many times in one night. He'd thought two peppermints would be more than enough to occupy his mouth should he find it impossible to restrain himself from verbally bitch slapping the stupid out of someone.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're buying drugs off local dealers in order to give the NPA the proof it needs to move forwards with their investigations. I heard about it as I was eavesdropping. I didn't anticipate that the poor sap involved in this contrived little scheme was you, so I was all for the knee cap breaking at first. As it were, it was, and you're damn lucky was there playing fly on the wall."

L reached his car and was amused to see Light open the door and slide in without prompting. He closed his door and turned back to the dumbstruck teen.

"It's hardly a new idea. Use a popstar, actor, athlete. Someone with a strong sense of civic duty and the star power to get what they want from anyone- even the underground. Make them do the police's research while pretending to be party animals. Use their leads to bust the bad guys. Really, it never ends well for the celebrity in question, I don't know why the NPA let you do it." L felt irked by having to explain himself at such lengths, he hadn't been expecting to give a lecture on idiotic things police did that got them killed. Still, if it kept the stupid boy next to him able to walk, it was worth it. After all, proper leg function was usually essential to good sex.

"I don't believe you. Name one celebrity taken out by the mafia doing _police_ work." L reached over and cupped Light's chin in his rough fingers, gently running his thumb over the protruding lower lip. Such a gorgeous moron.

"Marilyn Monroe. An apt comparison, I believe."

Light just stared at him with wide eyes.

"Now are we going to your car, or back to my place?" Light straightened his back.

"Your place. I'm not being gotten rid of that easily. We need to talk." L chuckled as he pulled out without looking.

"Darling boy, who said I wanted to get rid of you? I want to fuck you again. I _told_ you I'd find you."

L had to contain his laughter the whole way to the hotel at the look on Light's face.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh snapski! Is that...plot?

Nah, you're imagining it.

Anyways, thanks so much to my lovely reviewers **ShyClown, halfpromise and BlacAngel. **You are all dears, and I treasure you. Please bring friends this time?

So apparently, I've created a monster. A sexy Russian monster. I _apologize_. I didn't mean to explode anyone's ovaries, I can only hope that his quirky L-ness reminds you who you're dealing with. And then I hope that his tattooed body reminds you not to care. *Le swoon*. Yah, yah, my ovaries are gone too.

Also, you guys kind of panicked me. I do hope I was able to do my own characterization justice and that you're not all going to riot because L's not quite hot enough. Really, I'm terrified.

Oh, another fun fact. I'm not just pulling this out of my ass. I've known L's background for a long time, it just hasn't come up in one of my other fics yet. In my warped cannon, L is really the son of Alexei Loginov- Russian mafia boss. His mom I can't give away yet, but you've already met Alexei. And let me tell you, if you're looking for hot men...Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Alexei.

ANYWAYS (fans face) Love you all! Kisses to you!

Oh, and definitely expect Mihael in the next chapter in honor of the hamster I'm bringing home Monday night named Mello/Mihael. Depending on my mood.

Thanks for reading my word bombs!


	3. Soup

Disclaimer- If I owned Death Note, there would be a scene where Light lays around with strawberries on his naughties for L, but then has an allergic reaction- so L takes him to the hospital and makes Light explain to his father why he was laying around with strawberries on his junk in graphic detail. Sexy? No. Hilarious? _Yes_.

* * *

Mihael slid into the dusty room, catching himself from wincing as the stale air hit his face. The floor ached and groaned in protest as he walked in, wiping his snow covered boots on the welcome mat as he went. Sliding off his fur, he entered into the small kitchenette and scowled at the mess he found. Dirty dishes were everywhere, and he caught sight of every type of little horror scurrying into hiding as he flipped on the flickering yellow florescent light.

Pulling off his gloves and shoving them deep into his jeans pocket, he began to grab up dishes and food containers, shoving what was salvageable back into the refrigerator. Pulling out a rag from a cabinet, he swept crumbs of the counters before settling into to scrub down every surface with a ferocious vigor.

An hour later, the kitchen was clean and Mihael's cheeks were a light pink from the effort. He set the kettle up, intending to make Russian Tea as soon as the water was boiled, before he moved into the small and dark bedroom where the reason for his visit lay napping.

"Babushka?" Mihael asked softly, moving next to the sleeping figure. Underneath the mountains of crocheted blankets and furs that Mihael had purchased to keep the draft away, lay a small woman. Curls of gray hair tumbled around a relaxed face and Mihael smiled softly, pressing lips to her feathery forehead.

Her eyes fluttered open and lazy iris focused on him.

"Mihael, my boy. You visit now after so long a wait?" He chuckled softly and found her small hand to squeeze gently.

"I'm sorry Babushka, I was out of the country. I'm making tea and I brought soup. Go back to sleep and I'll bring it up in a few moments." She nodded and squeezed his hand back before resettling into her cocoon of blankets.

"You're a good boy Mihael. Much better than that lazy father of yours ever was. You know how to be a good boy, you'll make a good husband someday soon. Bless your mother's soul that she never found someone like you." Her voice was slightly waspish as she spoke of Mihael's standing disappointment of a father, and Mihael smiled tightly, ignoring the ache that came at the smallest mention of his parents. That was why he didn't come as often as he knew he should, international crime trips or not.

It hurt too much to be reminded.

Closing the door softly, he moved back into the kitchen and began to set up a tray. He was ladling the thick soup out, enjoying the warm steam that was rising to bush tenderly against his face when he felt the barrel pressed against the back of his head.

"Hands up." The voice was American and gruff. Mihael raised his hands slowly.

"Mihael Keehl, you're being taking into international custody. You pick the crime. There are plenty to choose from."

Mihael snorted softly.

"Dramatic speech for a man who sneaks into an old lady's home just to arrest her devoted grandson. Under whose authority are you acting? My government will protect me. They don't appreciate cocky American interlopers." The barrel pressed harder against the back of his head, and he felt the holder move closer to him.

"Listen to me you arrogant little son of a bitch, waste of fucking space-"

"It's under my authority, Mihael." His voice hit Mihael before he moved into the room, paralyzing him with the memories.

Fire, pain, love- oh God.

"Near."

He was the same. He was the same, and Mihael was scarred and-

"You fucking cunt." Mihael didn't care that he was technically being held at gunpoint, he lunged for fistfuls of that white shirt that the prick was wearing so casually and yet so gorgeously, felt the silken fabric beneath his hand for a tender moment before his back was slammed up against the wall with Near using Mihael's own momentum to move him. They locked eyes for a moment, and Mihael felt his stomach leap at those pulling black orbs. God, he was still so gorgeous.

Near's mouth covered his and Mihael was lost. Lost in the familiar expanse of that mouth that was covering his, and that body that was pressed up against his in an achingly similar dance to two years ago, two years ago when he'd been in love and happy, before L had almost died in that stupid explosion and before Mihael had pulled him out and gotten burned in the process, before Near had shown his true colors and tried to throw his only friend away in a Siberian cell for life.

Before the world had fallen down around his head and any hopes of fairy tale endings had left him.

Near pulled away and pressed a softer kiss to Mihael's temple, gently wrapping his arms around Mihael's waist.

"You look good." That low monotone that had sent shivers up Mihael's spine in times past merely brought the vaguest prickling of tears to the corners of Mihael's eyes now. How dare he? How fucking dare he come into Mihael's home and arrest him and kiss him and fuck! Fuck no!

Mihael pushed Near away roughly, cocking his fist quickly and letting it slam into the temple before him that was covered in a fluffy pillow of white curls. Near stumbled at the hit, but grabbed Mihael's fist as he went and just pulled him in deeper into his own chest.

"Mihael, I'm not going to hurt you, now stop it." And by God did Mihael want to believe that.

How many nights had he spent tossing and turning and praying hard for the man who was now pulling him back into his chest, whose strong hands with long fingers were now rubbing circles down his back? How many nights had he ached, not from the scars that littered the left side of his body, but from the betrayal that had led them to be there?

"Mihael, my love, calm down." His voice was soft, low and gentle against Mihael's ear and Mihael tightened his arms around Near's waist, burying his head deep into the silken fabric that smelled of clean soap and vanilla.

"Your love? Still?" Mihael's voice was muffled against Near's chest and he felt strong arms squeeze him gently.

"Always, Mihael, always." Mihael pulled away and sank down into a spindly wooden chair that had seen its own heyday around ten years ago and stared blandly at Near, who was looking at him with unreadable blankness.

"Giavanni, you can put the gun away- I told you, we're taking him into protective custody, not arresting him." Mihael heard the gun put back in its holster and he continued to stare at Near dully.

"Protective custody? I'm a member of one of those most dangerous crime families in the world. I shot two men down before I came here, and you're just going to let me what? Walk free? Because at one point, before you stabbed me in the back and left me to burn, we were lovers?" Mihael's voice was low, somber. Near just crossed the stained and cracked linoleum, leaning down in between Mihael's knees.

"I'm aware of who and what you are, Mihael. I said it two years ago and I'll say it now- I don't care. I'm selfish, and I get what I want. And I want you." Mihael leaned away from the fingers that gently traced the scarred flesh above his left temple.

"I'm going after L, Mihael. I'm going to get him this time and I don't want you getting in the way again. I'm not going to let you burn for him again." Near's strong fingers descended on Mihael's wrist before he could even think of reaching for the Magnum nestled in the small of his back.

"He's going to beat you again, Near." Tender lips brushed Mihael's and he returned the kiss softly.

"We'll see." Near stood and offered Mihael his hand. Mihael took it and didn't flinch as he was turned around and felt the cool metal of the cuffs close around his wrists.

"Giavanni, make sure Mihael's grandmother gets her soup and tea please. Halle, take Mihael to the car. I have a message to leave for L."

* * *

L locked the door to the hotel suite shut and turned to face the fuming teen. Light was bristling in his pristine suit, and L paused to admire how adorably cute he was for a moment before moving further into the suite and indicating for Light to follow.

"You're a criminal, a mobster- probably some murdering vicious monster and if you think I'm going to let you walk around free-" Light paused in his rant and glared at L.

"Why aren't you listening to me?" L waved a hand at him to continue, and resumed taking off his shirt.

"I believe you were at 'letting me walk around free' or something. Please continue, it was a rather endearing little speech." Light gaped at him and sank down on the plush bed covered in a mint comforter that wrapped itself around his thighs.

"What makes you think it's just a little speech? I'm the son of a police officer and you have shown your hand and I may not know exactly who you are but-" L cut him off again by pulling down his own pants. Light was apparently easily distracted by nudity.

"Yes, yes, I know all about your daddy, little Light. Soichiro Yagami- head of the NPA's organized crime unit, took a bullet to the spine six years ago in a sting operation right before he was primed to move to becoming director." L bent back down and took his Magnum out of his discarded jean's pocket, laying it out on the bedside table as Light's wide eyes trailed him. "He was shot by a wayward Yakuza, low level scum that went against orders. I have heard tale of that operation. Your father was trying to stop the Yakuza from exporting black market software copies into Russia. It was a mess of an operation. A lot of good men went down in it on both sides." L paused and glanced at Light.

"The man who shot your father was also shot by the leader of the operation moments after he paralyzed your father, if I have heard correctly. I'm sorry that your life was made so difficult by his actions."

L walked over, only in boxers now, and gently cupped Light's soft cheek.

"Now, you were saying?" Light struggled for words for a few moments, before scooting away from L's hand.

"So you _are_ a mobster. If I've 'heard tale correctly', that is." Light's voice was dark and sarcastic. L just nodded.

"I believe we had established that, but if you want a formal declaration then yes. I am a member of the _bratva_." Light nodded again, this time sagely.

"Alright then. Glad we got that straight. I'm off to the police." He stood and L just put out his hand and pushed him back onto the bed.

"Try again, beautiful." Light gave L a pleading kind of look and L leaned in and captured those pouting full lips for his own.

"You're a criminal. I should not be letting you kiss me." Ah, truer words and all that.

"I am a criminal, yes. Whether or not we should be kissing is entirely dependent on your perspective on right and wrong." L moved in again, and Light pushed back into him, kissing him with a desperate plea hidden underneath those lips. Light did not want to associate with the mob that he had worked so hard to undermine in his father's stead. He did not want L to be able to feel his heart beat faster and harder as L wrapped his arm around Light's waist. He did not want to have L licking down his neck to nip at a sharp collarbone.

Oh well, these things will happen whether we want them or not.

"What do you mean?" Light's voice was breathless and L nuzzled his neck a moment before answering, inhaling the sweet scent of Light's soap that lingered on his warm skin.

"I mean, it's completely up to you as to whether or not you find my actions offensive enough to deny the attraction we share for each other. I will admit to you that I am not a safe man. I am not a sweet man. As a matter of fact, I rank extremely high on the world's lists of most wanted men. I am not some idle gangster like your friend Sato Haruko." L paused and pressed a thumb to his lips.

"You could even say I'm the reason organized crime has risen dramatically over the last twelve years or so." L tossed a glance over his shoulder at Light who was now glaring at him increduously.

"You're lying. Obviously you're involved with the mafia, there was no falsehood there. Your tattoos are almost confession enough to the fact, but I was hoping that maybe you just liked them for artistic purposes. And yes, you seem to hold some degree of power if you're respected over here in Japan when you're from Russia. But to act as though you're some sort of catalyst for organized crime's rise over the last twelve years? Ridiculous. You can't be more than twenty." Light finished his speech with a smug glance over at L, who had decided that fine ass or not, the boy needed to talk less.

"I'm actually twenty-five." Light rolled his eyes and L shrugged. Truth was truth.

"Oh, so you expect me to believe that even at twenty-five, when most mafiosos are still busy busting their chops doing menial hit jobs, you're some sort of international tour de force in the world of organized crime? What, like you're the next L or something?" Light snorted. L straightened up.

"You know who L is?" L hadn't expected that.

"Of course I do, I've studied organized crime ever since my father got hit. I'm going to graduate university, drop performing, and fucking _end_ that bastard once I get in the NPA. He was in charge of the operation that left my father unable to walk, you know." Light's eyes had lit up with the kind of passion that L had seen on the faces of charismatic leaders, the kind of fire that could convince you to go along with whatever they were saying as long as they kept talking with such a burning intensity.

Unless they were talking about killing you. Lines had to be drawn at some point after all.

"Quite the task you've set yourself. Not even N himself has gotten close enough to L to 'end' him." L got off the bed abruptly and began to pull his pants back on, snapping the jeans closed with a harsh click that rang in the silence. Light's eyes trailed him.

"Well maybe I'll be better than N." L snorted and began to shrug on his shirt. "Where are you going?"

"To the police station to turn myself in. Your passion and sharp dressing have convinced me of the wrongness of my ways." L called over his shoulder as he moved into the kitchenette attached to his suite. He heard Light curse him out softly before the brunet followed him out, still in his pristine suit.

"Look, I'm not…It's obvious that you're not _that _big of a criminal." Oh this was going to be good.

"And how on earth did you arrive at that conclusion?" L turned to face the rapper, vodka bottle in hand. Light glanced at it curiously. "I thought provisions would be necessary to further our conversation." L said, shrugging.

"Well, if you were, you would have left me to get my kneecaps broken." L grabbed his shot glasses.

"And by confessing that you're some hotshot mafia boy, you were probably trying to scare me into not turning you in because you don't have the balls to silence me yourself. You're going to let me walk around free knowing that you're a member a gang because you can't kill me yourself. Hell, you're probably just the son of someone important and that's why Sato was kissing your ass." Light took a shot glass and emptied it with a practiced neatness. "Own up- you're just someone important's son."

L considered his options. He could tell the truth, or he could get laid.

"Yup. You're right. My father is a higher up in the Russian mobs the same way yours was a higher up in the NPA. As it were, he disapproves of me. Says I don't have what it takes to fill his shoes." L didn't need to act to let the bitterness sweep into his rough tone. "So he sent me here to play messenger. He does that a lot. Now, can we fuck?" Sex. Always. Won.

Light gave him a small grin.

"You know it's kind of hot how you pretended to be a bad ass." L grinned.

"_Is _it?" Light slid over to L, leaning in and kissing him again.

"Kind of. Besides, maybe I can use my wiles to win you over to the good side of the law." L chuckled low and Light slid his arms around L's waist.

"Hmm, that sounds delightful." Light leaned up and they kissed deeply, L navigating the slightly shorter man back into the bedroom.

"So, you're like…an errand boy? All of the power and glory and none of the dirty work?" Light asked as L tugged off his suit pants.

"If you say so." L responded, throwing his own pants once again to the wayside.

"I do. I've met with the worst of the yakuza, Lawliet. I know what they're like. You're not like that." There was a plea there, but L let it go unheeded. He _was _like that, after all. Didn't mean the fucking had to stop.

"You are about to set off on a delight game of a pretend, you do know that?" L murmured into Light's ear as he trailed long fingers down pearl buttons.

There was a pause and Light's eyes met L's, and truths were told through held gazes.

"Ask me if I care." L crushed his mouth down on Light's.

L didn't bother asking. He didn't want to know the answer.

* * *

Mihael was pushed roughly into a hotel bedroom by Halle before his handcuffs were taken off and the door clicked shut from the outside. He'd just had what had the be the most horribly awkward car ride over and was looking forward to Near getting his skinny ass back from wherever he and Giavanni had driven off to after Mihael had been shoved into a black Sedan by Halle.

Whether he wanted Near so he could kiss him or kill him had yet to be decided.

Gods.

Near.

Just his name sent tingles up and down Mihael's spine that gathered in the small of his back and just ached for those strong fingers to grab him and touch him and _love _him.

It had been two years. Two years since the fucker had slipped into Russia, into the bratva, into Mihael's bed and even into L's trust.

They had never seen it coming.

Near had been smart and quick, with a vicious aim that put Mihael's to shame.

Of course Mihael had fallen hard. He'd fallen hard and curled up every night for months against Near's chest, enjoying his lover and newfound happiness.

And he'd talked, as Near had intended him to.

He'd told Near everything, even the bits L had warned him to keep shut on. And Near had schemed, and in one burning night that had been intended as L's last, Mihael lost everything.

He lost L's trust, because not even saving his life could make up for the fact that L would not have been in that warehouse if it weren't for Mihael talking.

He lost Near, who had gotten the hell out of Russia the moment his plans literally went up in smoke.

And he lost himself somewhere along the way as the flames had eaten up the side of his body. How could have fallen so deeply for someone who was such a fucking prick?

"You think too much." Near was standing in the doorway now, and Mihael wasn't surprised that Near had gotten the drop on him.

The fucker was quiet and sneaky as hell.

"Do I? I have a lot to think about. Ex-lovers showing up, handcuffing me and spiriting me away to hotel rooms and all that."

Near re-locked the door behind him and crossed over to sit next to Mello on the bed.

"Please, don't start Mihael. We both know you were thinking of two years ago." Mihael bit his lip and instinctively reached for his pocket to grab a piece of chocolate.

"I have good reason to be. You're a backstabbing, no good-"

"Internationally renowned detective?" Near finished. Mihael fell silent sullenly.

"I was working on the side of the law, Mihael. I _am _the law." Mihael leaned back against Near and Near wrapped his arms back around Mihael's waist, peppering kisses down a scarred neck.

"Then drop the case Near. You can do it, Mr. Law. Drop it right fucking now and I will leave with you." Near stiffened against Mihael.

"You'd leave with me?" Mihael caught the hesitation and he turned to face Near, cupping that familiar angular chin in his palm.

"Yes. Yes I would. Drop it, drop L, and we leave. Back to America or wherever the fuck you shack up." Near leaned in and captured Mihael's lips fiercely and possessively and Mihael ached, ached to be joined with him again because it had been too too long since he'd felt Near inside of him. Since he'd rocked against Near and had his love hold him and cherish him.

Mihael needed to be cherished.

"We'll see."

And that was that.

Mihael let Near kiss him anyways. He let Near slowly strip off his black shirt and tug down Mihael's jeans before shoving off his own silken shirt. He let Near lean over him and press him down into the bed, parting Mihael's thigh with his own.

He let him because he'd never been able to deny him, and god it had been too long of a day to start now.

Near slid into Mihael and Mihael arched up, moaning out Near's name and a million other pleas to various deities to never let this feeling end. To never again let Near leave his side.

They finished and Near held him, fingers gently tracing along Mihael's new scars.

"I was the one who paid for your care, you know. It wasn't him." There was a trace of bitterness in Near's voice that was new to Mihael.

"I know that." Mihael stroked Near's arm that wrapped possessively around his waist.

"Then why didn't you come to me?" Near's voice was soft, purposefully so, to hide that sharp ache of pain that resided in the question.

"Come to you?" Mihael turned, his chest pressing against Near's. "What are you talking about?" Near frowned, twirling a lock of Mihael's blond hair in his finger.

"I sent a messenger asking you to leave Russia once I heard you were well enough to travel. I must have been camped out in Germany for months waiting to move in to get you. You never sent word."

Mihael stared at Near. Near stared back.

"Fucking L."

* * *

L rolled off of Light, who was now slumbering peacefully, and wandered over to his ringing phone. Flipping it open with two fingers, he held it up to his ear with a wince. He really didn't like the stupid things.

Plus, they made killing a lot harder when the victim could just send a text off to emergency services.

"L."

N's voice was cold, dangerous. It was much more effective now that he'd dropped the voice filter. All those years L had been fighting against a computer until the albino fuck had strolled into his life, casual as can be. L would never forgive him for changing the game the way he had.

"N." L kept his voice purposefully neutral, despite the sudden vicious urge to shoot something that was now thrumming along purposefully in his veins. In the decade they'd been chasing after each other, nothing annoyed the little detective more than L's indifference.

"I was saddened to see you were out of the country. I had fifteen different raids on your brotherhood today alone. Imagine my disappointment when I found out you weren't here to enjoy it."

L snorted.

"Best you can do? They'll all be out in the street in a month's time. All you've ever done is catch small fish." There was a stretch of silence, and L glanced back into the bedroom to make sure Light was still asleep.

"I caught a pretty big fish today as well. But I think he's much too fine to go to prison. I'm thinking of keeping him as a trophy."

Mihael.

L's stomach dropped.

"Leave him out of this _Near_. The last time you involved him in our games, he got burned. Literally. This stays between me and you." He heard a distant clacking over the line, and wondered if N was stacking Dominos. Ten years of fighting against someone led you to know the oddest things about them.

"I have taken Mihael into my custody, I have no intention of having you use him to save your own ass again. Fair warning, L. I'm done playing. No more games, no more clever entrapments. I'm done. I'm going to end you."

The line went dead. L frowned as his life was threatened once again.

Well wasn't that just the sentiment of the night?

* * *

**Author's Note: **

I wanted to yell out "HERE COMES THE CRACKEN" so badly as I uploaded this.

As always, this is dedicated to **halfpromise**, who can clearly see now how much I have lost the plot. My soul- Itaiiiiiiii! *sobs*

Sorry if this is a bit short, but I have had issues in the real world related to school and drinking and boys and no free time. I also decided to use all my real free time to read a 200something chapter fanfic, whatever. That is all coming to an end after Tuesday though, because then my midterms shall be done. Until they resume a week later, but whatever, who cares about school?

Thanks to the amazing reviews I've gotten for this piece so far, hopefully you'll continue to like my crack. I swear, I laughed at myself so much with this one guys. I just sat back and went- what made you ever think you could write? You are a horrible person, just look what you've done to these lovely characters.

Then I drank some more peach wine and it all went fuzzy.

Thanks for reading my wordbombs! Please check out my other (non-crack) fics that shall be updated soon. I _swear _guys. I know a lot of you also read Tale of Two Death Notes (and if you don't, you should), and Ch. 7 is halfway done. I'm just having a diva moment and making sure the plot is on point.

Remember, nothing says love like a well-written review. Unless you're writing in to tell me how much I suck, in that case- trust me, I already know. Kisses!


	4. Cards

Disclaimer- If I owned Death Note, Near would have had his own spin off series. And there would be no tops in it. Also, sex. Lots of it. Man on man copulations. Nothing but day dreams about him and Light and Mello getting it on. (Has someone written that, btw? Should I write that? Threesome time?)

* * *

Mihael woke up in a strange bed without his gun under his pillow. He slid his hand around the cool underside of the pillow a few moments more before jolting up. His heart raced hard for a few moments before he caught sight of the black leather jacket Near had been wearing the night before and he was hit with the memories of last night.

Coming to his senses, he couldn't help but notice the heavy smell of sex still lingering in the room and how achingly well fucked he felt. His thighs were tight and his back was sore and his lips were bruised, but by God if he didn't feel more alive than he had in ages.

Near was nowhere to be seen, but that had always been the case after sex. The man would stay long enough for Mihael to fall asleep comfortably settled in his warm arms before sliding out and continuing his work. Mihael ruffled through Near's drawers before snagging out a pair of boxers and one of Near's silky dress shirts and quickly clothing himself. His stomach grumbled and he grinned at the thought of one of Near's catered breakfasts. International detective he may be, but the man was spoiled rotten by his live in butler and companion Wammy, and Mihael was completely open to being grown to be spoiled too.

He slid out of the bedroom and blinked in surprise as he saw a vaguely familiar goggled form smoking a cigarette and typing away on a laptop while stretched lazily across one of the sitting room's many puffy armchairs. If Mihael's eyes weren't betraying him, than the man in front of him was one very well known drug dealer of the seediest sort that often did business with L. Apparently he'd dyed his hair. Or stopped dyeing. Mihael didn't really know which one. All he knew was that very few people were prone to goggles and striped tops as fashion statements.

"Matt?" Matt glanced up and grinned.

"Near! Lover's up!" Mihael blinked as the South African accent came out of Matt's mouth, coloring his English with a melodic lilt. He'd only met the man a few times before, but he had been very decidedly British then. Near entered and eyed Mihael in his boxers for a few moments and Mihael regretted the wardrobe decision, because fuck it if they didn't both want to go at it again. Only there was now an interloper in the mix and Mihael wasn't one to share.

"Mihael, I trust you've met Mail." Matt, now Mail, gave Mihael a wink and a two fingered salute before hitting his computer again.

"Yes…but he was British. And had read hair. And was named Matt." Near shrugged.

"He does that. It was imperative for him to remain undercover in order to infiltrate L's network. Unfortunately, it seems he's caught onto the trackers we were sneaking in the cocaine shipments and has been warning our clientele off of his products. So I returned him to my proper team." Mail cracked out his fingers and stretched a bit.

" S'nice not to have to put on that fokken accent anymore. Plus the hair dye made me look like shit. Couldn't get any pussy as a redhead. " He paused thoughtful. "Men were really into me though." Mihael just nodded and tried to look like this wasn't all a bit out of his comfort zone. "Anyway Near, I'm going to try and scope out some of those locations you wanted now that the snow's lightened up to only a small blizzard. How you fokkers deal with this kak year round, I'll never know…" He gave Mihael another grin and left, pulling on a large puffy coat as he went.

"So you had one of your men running a drug cartel out of his London basement?" Near shrugged and dropped down onto the recently abandoned chair.

"Yes." Well then. Mihael slid into his lap and Near groaned as Mihael straddled him fully. Near's fingers tap danced across his hip before they sunk in hard and possessively into Mihael's hip bone and Mihael groaned back, pressing his hips forward to the touch. Near began to devour his neck and Mihael remembered exactly why he loved this man so much. God, if he wasn't just electric and every touch setting off a series of sparks down Mihael's spine and shooting over in an arc straight to his groin. Of course there were other reasons too, besides the fingers that were flying quickly over his buttoned shirt and pushing it aside.

Like his wit, his laugh, his dry and sometimes cruel sense of humor that only Mihael seemed to understand. Or the way he could tirelessly pursue whatever he wanted with a determination that rivaled L's.

L…

No. No, he couldn't think about L now. L was safe in Japan and Mihael was here with Near and could make sure that no harm came to the man he loved like a brother.

And besides, who could think when Near was making his way down Mihael's chest with that talented tongue and –

Mihael's mind blanked on inner dialogue and he let himself just feel as Near captured his nipple and wrestled with it to a refrain of whimpers and sighs from Mello.

"We should eat breakfast." Near said, pulling away and gently pushing Mihael off his lap.

Goddamn cocktease.

Mihael loved him all the more for it.

* * *

L was unsure if he was playing voyeur to a private behavior, or if Light knew he was watching, but either way he was very much enjoying his private concert as the young man flowed through one of his songs as he showered. His voice was low and raspy and he bobbed his head in time with his own beat, using his hands to emphasize words as he rapped into the shower walls.

It was absolutely adorable.

It was also illuminating. Light was apparently talented, extremely so even. L hadn't yet found the time to run through his new bed partner's discography, and he'd only caught the tail end of that one song that had played the first night they'd met. He recalled complimenting it, but honestly he'd really been more focused on the tight ass next to him and now for the life of him he couldn't remember a single word. But if he produced anything like what he was doing in the shower, then the kid really was more than a pretty face, damn fine body, and stylish clothes picked out by professionals. Who knew?

L heard the water shut off and Light stepped out, all well defined planes of muscle and wet golden skin. He glanced up and looked surprised to see L lounging against the door frame and watching him with hungry eyes.

"Absolutely not. I'm hungry and sore and we need to go get my car." L added mind reader to Light's list of talents, along with blow jobs, leg spreading, possibly rapping, and looking sinfully good.

"Well then put your clothes on. If you're just going to prance around naked, I'm going to assume you want me to do something about it." Light arched an eyebrow and dropped his towel without preamble, leaving him nude and gleaming under the dull hotel lightening.

"Did you have something specific in mind?" L strolled forward without answering and pulled Light into a hungry kiss, devouring his mouth and steering him back into the bedroom. He pressed his little rap star down onto the bed and threw his legs open, pulling away to begin kissing down a long thigh. Light whimpered and began to harden as L played along his hipbone, taking time to drag his tong over the long lines of muscle. L was enjoying the lazy seduction, and by the sound of things, so was Light.

"Gods, Lawliet, just suck me."

Screw 'please', those were truly magical words.

L descended and Light reached new octaves and decibels before finally climbing to climax in L's talented mouth. Pulling away from his now spent lover, L casually wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Now did we learn our lesson about naked prancing?" Light nodded dazedly.

"Do it more often?" L chuckled.

"Clever boy."

* * *

L had to admit, Light had great taste. They arrived in the lot he'd stashed his car in last night by cab as soon as he'd been able to walk again, and L was just impressed the car was still in the lot and hadn't been broken into. It was a real beauty and he didn't even care much for cars. Light's car was low, black, and the inside was all leather with every creature comfort installed. The custom embroidery on the seats was tastefully opulent and the whole thing reeked of unchecked ego and swagger. It screamed Light Yagami.

He slid into the passenger side, letting Light drive him to breakfast where he had announced that they would continue their 'talk' from the night before. L was looking forward to it. He was looking forward to as many precious moments that he could steal out of the adorable boy before he had to deal with _Near_.

N. Fucking cunt.

L felt blindsided and that wasn't something he appreciated, or was used to. Usually when L had to improv, it ended up in guns and blood- not a bad thing, but not something he could use with much success on N.

No, what he needed was a plan, one that cut off N from working his poisonous little way through the bratva and put that insidious little punk firmly in his place. L glanced at Light who was fiddling with the radio.

"Just drive Light." Light gave him a death glare and continued to tweak buttons. L sighed. Diva.

Finally satisfied with the bass levels on his overly expensive and most likely custom stereo, Light pulled out and they left the parking lot that was squarely set in the middle of the red light district. L glanced at the dull buildings that always looked so haggard and sad by daylight compared to their ostentatious alter-egos at night. They were out soon enough and L relaxed a bit now that they were surrounded by mirrored high rises. Even under the bright sun and honesty that day brought to the underworld, he still didn't Light being around his kind.

L closed his eyes and leaned back against the plush leather that still smelled new. Light was blasting some American song that was talking about pussy and shootings and L idly wondered when he'd given away the rights to his life story. Light seemed content though, he was mouthing the words and tapping his fingers along the steering wheel, bopping slightly with the beat. L just pulled his left leg into himself, placing it on the dashboard and keeping it there when Light didn't comment about L's shoes on his interior.

"Lawliet?" L made a vague sound of acknowledgement through his closed lips, keeping his eyes similarly shut. Light turned down the music, leaving only a muted beat thrumming along in the background in addition to the smooth hum of the engine as Light deftly navigated Tokyo streets.

"How deep are you in? Really?" L opened his eyes and glanced over at Light, who was grasping the steering wheel with tight knuckles and whose jaw was jumping with how tightly he was clenching his teeth.

"I told you, you don't want to know. I have to leave soon anyways, so let's just get food and you can skip out on your responsibilities for another day and we'll fuck and that'll be it."

Light slapped the wheel viciously and L looked over at the boy in surprise.

"Dammit Lawliet, I'm a big boy. I can handle knowing." L glanced upwards thoughtfully, thumb on his lips.

"I suppose that's true…" Light gave him an annoyed glare.

"Fine. I am the son of Alexei Loginov. I already told you this. What I failed to mention is that Alexei Loginov is the head of the Russian bratva and CEO to our public corporation that we run our operations out of. I am, in essence, the heir to the Russian mafia."

Light looked like he was trying not to looked shocked.

"You're…the heir…Shit, Lawliet." L shrugged. It was true. And it still left out that whole bit about him running the international mafia under his moniker L.

Actually, being privilege to the fact that L was Lawliet was more than most mafiosos would ever know. L was an internationally renowned entity whose exact allegiance wasn't known to anyone but the bratva's elite. Where L had come from, where he'd gotten his contacts, none of the other families knew. They just knew that he was dark haired and dangerous and could switch through Russian, Japanese, Chinese, Spanish, Italian and English at a whim. Sometimes he switched up his accents just to fuck with people. L was the mafia man you called when you wanted shit done. Nothing more, nothing less. He'd utilize anyone's resources as long as he got his cut. The fact that his cut was then carefully fed back into the Russian syndicate was cleverly disguised. Hell, 'L' had even taken up minor cases against his own bratva in order to keep suspicion that he was actually Russian in loyalty as well as blood down. Near had been the only person to actually pin down the fact that he was Russian bratva legion and not entirely his own agent. But even Near didn't know that he was Lawliet Loginov.

Meanwhile, Lawliet Loginov was the pristine son of Alexei Loginov. He was rarely seen, instead working diligently on the public face side of things at the bratva's 'corporation' in some VP job. L had set up a look-alike years ago and let him at it, leaving the door open for him to step in as Lawliet, not L, whenever his father died.

L was in essence his own evil twin.

Light had no idea how much carefully guarded information he was now privilege to.

"I work for our corporation, Light. I don't do hits. I don't do schemes. I actually work on the right side of the law, although that will change whenever my father dies."

Not true, but it was Lawliet's truth, so L was sticking to it.

Light glanced down at L's bare arms where the tattoo of his mother lay.

"Then why all the muscles? Scars? Tattoos? You look like a mafia man." Not when he wore Lawliet's custom three piece suits, he didn't, L thought.

"I like the style of tattoo and I play rugby. Hence scars and muscles." Light looked contemplative, considerate. He wasn't threatening to run them straight into the NPA's lobby, so that was good.

"So, you really are, basically, a Russian business man." Lawliet nodded and ignored the licks of hell fire tickling his feet.

"Why was Sato Haruko so scared of you then? How did he even know who you were?" L paused.

"My arrival was expected, he was prepared to see the son of Alexei Loginov. I may not be a mafia hit man, but I'm not without my own set of skills or my own personal power." Light nodded as though that made sense, even though it didn't.

Teenagers were so cute and willing when they were falling in love.

"Well…then. Breakfast?" L nodded and watched the streets zoom by and a plan formed in the back of his head…

* * *

Light knew he was staring and he didn't care. Lawliet looked damn fine in a suit.

Damn. Fine.

Breakfast had been casual and cheap, with Lawliet insisting on eating everything covered in a layer of red bean paste, even the rice. Afterward, he'd gotten a thoughtful look in his eye and asked Light if he wouldn't mind accompanying him suit shopping.

Light had wavered at first, still unsure of where he stood on his new lover's secret identity as a mafia prince. It was all a bit much. But then Lawliet had kissed him and nibbled on his lower lip and Light would have agreed to anything. And he had.

But now he was quite enjoying the fruits of his decision.

Lawliet had slipped into the Brooks Brother's store as if he had done it a million times before. There had been no hesitation in his voice or waver in his orders, even though the salesmen had stared at him and his leather jacket and wife beater with ten kinds of disgust. That had been until Lawliet had thrown open his wallet and picked out a particularly thick black card, the kind of which Light himself had only become accustomed to in the last year.

Well, at least now Light knew Lawliet wasn't after his money.

After that, it had been all yes sirs and no sirs, and L had arranged his fitting to happen immediately and paid all sorts of extra fees to guarantee the custom suit was ready by close the next day. He'd also had the sales girl grab runs of every slack and shirt in a 36 and added them all into his order without thought.

Even Light didn't throw around his money so casually.

After Lawliet was done picking out his tie, he paid and they left, taking only a brief stop into a jeweler for Lawliet to snatch up a Tag Heuer chronograph within minutes of entering. He paid and they left again.

Light was staring again.

"Why are we shopping? I mean, not that I'm complaining, I do this fairly often enough myself, but…"

"We're not shopping ,we're done shopping." Lawliet replied, throwing his bags into the back of Light's car and they both leaned up against the vehicle, resting in the quiet and covered parking lot. "It occurred to me that I need to return to Russia immediately and certain levels of dress are expected out of me when I do. I neglected to pack fine clothes, because this was not a trip meant for button up shirts. However, fate has dealt me a hand and I am dealing with it." Oh, that made sense.

Wait! Immediately?

"Immediately?" Lawliet gave him a small smile.

"Unfortunately. I received a rather pressing phone call last night. In three days time, I will return to Russia." He paused and glanced over at Light. "You could return with me." Light frowned slightly, surprised.

Surprised by the offer and surprised by the fact that he wanted to take it.

But…he had school. Although, really, it was still early enough in the semester to pull out and be fine academically.

His father wouldn't like it, but his father hadn't liked it when he became Kira and Light had done that anyway. They'd needed the money and now they were set for life. Light trusted his own instincts when it came to big decisions.

And he wanted this.

Badly.

As a matter of fact, he wanted it far too much for someone he'd just met. Lawliet was mysterious, dangerous, insanely clever and almost certainly much further on in the mafia than he was letting Light be privy too.

And Light didn't care. He didn't care because Lawliet was also funny and a wickedly good kisser and the most interesting company Light had entertained in a long time, which was an impressive feat for a man used to hanging around eccentric pop stars. He set Light on fire in all of the stereotypical ways, but there was also a deeper current of budding genuine appreciation and affection. Light liked him. He liked him hard and he liked him passionate and he could love him one day.

That wasn't a sentiment he'd ever thought of entertaining.

"Sounds fun." Lawliet looked genuinely surprised and Light leaned over and kissed him softly. "Just promise me one thing, Lawliet." He nodded, staring at Light with inky unreadable eyes.

"In Russia, we'll stop pretending. I want the truth once we get there." Lawliet nodded and Light sat back satisfied.

"Now, I have to call my dad and tell him I'm taking off to Russia for a while. How long will we be there, do you think?" Lawliet glanced around at the other cars and shrugged nonchalantly. Typical.

And so Light flipped open his phone and mentally prepared himself.

"Hey Dad…we need to talk."

* * *

Near frowned and stared back over at the pictures. Alexei Loginov was connected to L, that he was sure. L was Russian, Mihael had let him in on that much information and Near had run with it to almost get the bastard two years ago. But he still felt like he was missing something.

L, much like himself, didn't have a known identity. Mihael had told him that L was an orphan and didn't know his parents or real name. Near hadn't pressed him for more information because Mihael seemed to genuinely believe that. It made Near furious that his love was so easily placated by L's lies, but Mihael had proved time and time again to be too trusting to his legendary superior. No, L had a real identity. And it was tied to the Loginovs somehow. He just had to be. Why else would the man funnel his profits into their family? Was he a cousin?

Near went back through the known Loginov family tree, but hit dead ends at every turn. They were all accounted for and they were all not L.

Infiltrating L's network of his most trusted agents had not been easy and Near had not been patient. He had gotten in far enough to actually see the man, see the face behind the taunting voice he'd been fighting against for years. It had felt like victory and he had pulled the trigger too soon. He had thought he'd discovered enough and he'd let himself get run away with his own plans.

Well, not this time.

This time he was going to make sure he knew every ounce of L's dirty laundry and make sure he'd torn through every last piece of information before pulling the trigger.

Near had learned patience, had learned calm, and would not lose again. Besides, this time, he already had his prize. He glanced over into the other room where Mihael was napping.

Flipping on the TV on a whim, he frowned as he saw the news headline. Something stupid about an international rapper visiting Moscow on vacation. Unnecessary information. He turned it off and returned to studying the Loginov family tree. Maybe he was in one of the smaller families? Not a true Loginov?

Near rubbed his eyes wearily and grabbed a pack of cards out from under the coffee table. Building a castle sounded nice.

* * *

Mihael turned on the TV in his room, waking up from his post-coital nap after hearing Near cuss fluently in English about some 'clusterfuck of a mafia family' or something like that before the familiar sounds of cards slapping down on a wooden table began. Flipping on the screen, he was hit with the news channel. Leaning up on his elbows, he watched for a few moments before his eyes widened.

L was on the screen.

Only he wasn't L, he was Lawliet, and it was one of the few times Mihael had actually seen the man pretend to be himself. He was with some famous pop star, and Mihael knew that he would never actually let himself be caught on camera if it weren't to pass along the message that he knew Mihael could get no other way.

Boss Baby was back in town.

And fuck it if he wasn't gunning for blood.

Near's blood.

Shit. Mihael loved Near, he did. Near was his other half, his equal, and the only man to set his blood on fire better than vodka could ever do.

But L was the real Law, no matter Near's claims to the title. And L was bratva. Family when Mihael had had none. He had grown up with Lawliet, he had been there when he became L. Mihael was L's man, and that could not and would not change because of Near.

Mihael heard Near's phone go off and then his love's quiet voice.

A few moments later he heard the phone being thrown across the room.

"Near?" Near was standing in the middle of the room with a half finished card tower in front of him, cold fury leaking off of him in slow waves. Mihael had only seen Near this angry once before and it had been right before he'd gotten his scars.

"L is playing games. I'm sorry I overreacted and woke you up." Mihael arched an eyebrow.

"What games?" Near took a small breath and sat back down in front of his card tower.

"He called and threatened me with assassination. Said he knew I was sniffing after the Loginov family, and if I wanted to tangle with them then he'd just send Mello after me." Mihael froze.

No.

No, L couldn't…He couldn't expect Mello to do that.

"Mello? The Loginov's hit man? L doesn't work for the Loginov's, I've told you that. It's an empty threat. L's powerful, but the Loginov's aren't going to just lend out their best men for him." Near scoffed.

"And I've told you that I have every reason to believe that he does. L is not the man you think he is, Mihael." Near gave him a sympathetic look. "And quite frankly, he's L and Mello's a known monster. I'm sure the fuck would chop off whoever's head L pointed out. Luckily, there's no way Mello could ever track me down." Mihael clenched his hand tightly for a moment, missing dearly the guns Near had taken.

God the man could be an idiot. For all of his brilliance, he seemed absolutely determined to believe that Mihael was nothing more than a child L had recruited into his twisted little prized collection of agents. That Mihael just liked the rush of working for L and did nothing more than the planning and organization tasks L had let Mihael show when Near had been around. Even then, he'd been suspicious of their new recruit. And even after working for L, Near still hadn't figured the greatest trick of all.

There were no true agents, not at the top anyways. They were all Loginovs or Loginov loyals. They just operated under different handles when working for L. Big Daddy had arranged the whole thing the moment L had turned fifteen and decided he wanted a more active role in planning out their various illegal activities. Mihael was L's right hand man, his assistant that handled the details while L crafted his schemes.

Mello was Alexei Loginov's personal hit man, taking out whoever dared cross his brotherhood's front lines.

They were one in the same and despite the fact that Mihael had repeatedly dropped hints to Near, the man had still refused to see the truth. Still scoffed whenever Mihael alluded to Mello's kills that were his own.

And now Mello was being called in by L where only Mihael was supposed to be present.

Dammit.

"I need a smoke." Mihael muttered, grabbing one of Mail's packs. He'd grown to quite like the chatty South African over the last couple of days, despite the fact that man mostly bitched about the weather and talked about big breasted women. He was normal, at least as normal as anyone in their line of work got, and Mihael enjoyed that.

Near frowned.

"You should stop smoking, it's bad for you."

Mihael just scowled.

* * *

Author's Note- Well there ya go. Happy bday Light, sorry I'm a day late. This chapter's a bit weird I feel, but I had to get a lot of explanation/background shit out of the way, so whatever. Hopefully you like it. If not, I'm not that fussed. This is crack, remember?

Anyways, I think I made it pretty clear, but if someone's super confused about the whole L/Lawliet Mihael/Mello thing, lemme know. Basically, the end point is that Alexei is a foresighted motherfucker that I _cannot_ wait to write about. Such daddy issues there people.

Let me know your thoughts! Also, if you're reading this and _not_ reading my other fics, you have such problems. Such problems. Go read them, there's _real _plot in those.

Thanks for reading, drop me a line!


	5. Snow

_Disclaimer-_ If I owned it, I wouldn't be so goddamn poor that I'm sitting here debating whether or not I can afford a bag of chips. Or maybe I would, but only because I would have hired out lifetime actors to play out L/Light sex scenes whenever the fancy struck me.

* * *

Light stared at the towering structure as they drove up, shiny black glass windows that ran the entire body of the high rise reflecting the other buildings in bent and convoluted versions of themselves, a mirror city shining out of the depths of their reflections. Light stared hard into that mirror city, pretending his could see its citizens and he imagined them to be men in dark coats with blurred faces that each carried guns and stalked the streets in the eternal night that the black mirrored surface offered, each to protect their Mayor that lay within the heart of the city. His eyes flicked to the top of the building at the thought, where the only clear windows shown out.

He then glanced at Lawliet, who had been silent the entire ride over. Light leaned forwards in his suede seat and pressed down on the button to make the partition that separated the haves from the have not's raise up with so much clear cut imagery, to leave him and Lawliet alone in the back of the rumbling Rolls Royce.

"I take it you and your father don't get along." Lawliet glanced at Light, gave a small snort, and leaned his head back, swallowing hard as the car pulled into the underground parking garage.

"And I'm guessing we're not talking about it." Another snort, this time Light received a small glare as well.

"Okay then, just checking."

They exited the car, Lawliet with the reluctant grace of a man who had been doing such his entire life and Light with the springboard energy of a star used to popping out of vehicles to hungry paparazzi. It was a small walk to the elevator, but Light's skin prickled uncomfortably beneath his jacket as the steps echoed around in them, breaching the uneasy silence with loud slaps.

The elevator ride was smooth, the hum of finely crafted machinery and an overactive air conditioning vent serenading their trip.

They were let off exactly three floors before the last one and Lawliet lurched forwards, straightening his back and looking resentful as he led Light to an office that had a Russian name on it, Light could only assume it was Lawliet Loginov as Lawliet opened the doors with a familiar resignation.

"Welcome to my office." It was sparse and ultra modern, a sleek kind of decoration that revolved mostly around glass and brilliant steel surfaces. The couches and rugs were all white and Light swore the temperature was lower in the room, whether that was actual fact or his imagination's reaction to walking into a interpretation of snow storm via interior decorating, he remained unsure.

The only vaguely personal affect was an impressive glass liquor cabinet, completely translucent but styled as though it were crafted from hard wood. Light ogled at its grandeur. European sensibilities were such an interesting thing.

And if he didn't know any better, judging by the contents it appeared as though Lawliet had a drinking problem. Lawliet crossed the tundra rug and grabbed out a large bottle of vodka kept in a crystal tumbler and drank from it straight.

Or maybe he didn't know better.

"We will be having a late lunch with my father at two." He took another gulp.

"He knows that you are my barely legal lover that I have chosen to bring back with me because I am a selfish creature incapable of separating myself from that which I like. He is obviously not happy about that, for so many reasons that I'll leave them to your imagination." He put the bottle down, picked up a shot glass and kept going, tallying the shots on a small notepad that Light saw was filled with similar pages of tallies.

"Fuck." That was issued after another shot made its way down Lawliet's throat and Light was beginning to worry as the other man hadn't eaten anything on the plane, despite the fine first class offerings.

"I really hate him." Light stood at that and walked over, dropping down in between Lawliet's knees to pull Lawliet down by the back of his neck into a kiss. It tasted sharp and bitter and felt hot like the sear of good alcohol and Lawliet grabbed Light's shirt and pulled him up first and then down into his lap where strong arms tightened around Light's waist.

They continued to kiss; each movement rougher than the first and Lawliet's fingers scratched hard down Light's back beneath his jacket, sinking through the knit of his swear to leave pink trails of ownership. Light pulled away to moan into that strong and familiar shoulder and Lawliet attacked below his ear while Light tipped his neck back to make a better offering. Lawliet gave a sound of approval and suddenly began to tug Light's sweater out of his pants, impatient for his entire lover to be at his disposal.

Light threw his jacket onto the floor right before L picked him up and pressed him down onto the camel leather couch that offered the only color in the room. Light mentally celebrated his foresight in his choice of the floor, throwing clothing onto the couch only ever resulted in wrinkles that even professionals winced at.

"Do you want me to suck you off before I fuck you?" Lawliet asked, hot breath grazing Light's ear as he worked his fingers under Light's shirt, stroking and kneading impatiently. Light took a few deep breaths before answering.

"Do you have to ask?"

* * *

Mello slowly laced up his boots, feeling the familiar corded strings underneath his fingers as he tied them with ritualistic precision. These boots- tall, black, worn leather that was butter soft from use over thick soles with steel hidden in the toe box- were the only similarity between Mihael and Mello. Mello wore all leather, the material was thick, study, but still allowed for all necessary movement. It also protected better against knifes. Mihael usually wore wool and jeans to stay warm while yelling out L's orders into headsets. Mello wore a signature crucifix, large and ornate, and hidden with its depths a knife- the very embodiment of the Lord's protection swinging always from his chest. Mihael had confessed to a great sense of apathy as far as any divine presences went. They certainly did not shine their judgment or blessings down on Ruthenia, so he found it hard to care. That was how he had been instructed to present himself, and that was how he had. Such simple measures that had fooled even the world's greatest detective.

Mello finished tying the boots and stood up. He may not have his crucifix, and he may be in leathers stolen from the back of Near's closet that were just a little too tight for comfort, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

Besides…

At least he had his own gun.

He fingered his Beretta fondly, feeling more at ease now that the weight was once again in his palm. He had torn the hotel suite up and down looking for it behind Near's back, but that man was now so concerned with the looming threat of Mello making an appearance that he hadn't noticed Mihael acting strangely. The gun had finally been found wedged under a loose marble tile under the suite's kitchen's fridge, still loaded.

It was like Near was just daring him to make a move, assuming that Mihael wouldn't.

And he was right. Mihael would never leave those warm arms willingly.

But Mello would.

He had to return to L. There was no other option. If he stayed, L would come to get him and then Near would die at L's hands.

In order to save the love of his life, Mihael needed to kill the life of their love. Luckily, a certain alter ego with a cow skin fetish and kills list in the hundreds would do for that quite nicely. He took another deep breath and stood slowly, glancing at the closed bedroom door that led out into the sitting room where Near had sat talking with Gevanni for the past hour.

He kicked the door opened and shot Gevanni dead in the back of the head in one movement, training the gun on Near in the second. The echo of both the gun and the wood cracking were both registered by Mello under his own quiet pants, but in his mind the world stood still as he captured the moment in his mind.

Near sat on the floor, one hand over a card tower that was now slowly collapsing from the cards dropped onto it in surprise.

No matter, it was blood soaked now anyways.

"Mihael, what are you doing?" Near's voice was calm and level, but Mello was a symphony conductor for pain and he could hear it swelling under that cool timbre.

"I'm leaving. It's been fun babe, but it's been a hell of a winter for ice finishing and now I've got bigger fish to fry." He moved forward slowly, gun still aimed at Near's smooth forehead.

"You killed Gevanni." He sounded put out.

"So?" Near moved suddenly, hand going straight to his pocket but Mello beat him there, tackling him and crashing him into the armchair behind him in a huge lunge, their limbs entangling as Mello grabbed Near's gun and threw it across the room.

"None of that love, I don't have time to get kinky." He straddled Near fully, and ran his gun gently through those white curls, circling Near's temple with reverent precision.

"Now, L has made good on his promise Near. Mello is here, but lucky for you he's feeling nice, so he's going to let you off with a warning." Near's eyes widened and Mello wanted to laugh at the shock he'd never seen on those features.

"I'm leaving. Don't follow me, don't try to come after me, don't _think_ about me after this. Go home, to America or England or wherever the fuck you want and don't you so much as dream about coming against the bratva again, do you understand me?" Near's eyes flicked down Mello's chest, now half covered by one of his own black shirts that Mello had left open in his best imitation of his own usual vest. His skin felt colder with no crucifix brushing against it.

"Mello's religious. You're not religious" His voice was petulant, as though angry that Mihael had tricked him and he was focusing on only the most basic of differences between the two in order to ignore the big one. Mello was a murdering bastard, Mihael wasn't.

"Superficial difference that's kept you stumped for years. Pretty cute, huh?" Near was almost frowning now and Mello was enjoying straddling him and tried to ignore the ever ticking clock in the back of his mind that was telling him to leave. If these were the last moments he had, he was going to savor them.

"Why?" That question was more loaded than Mello's gun.

"Because I had to. You don't grow up in the bratva and stay baptism fresh for long, _N._" Mello breathed the initial out, the name that Mello would use, the name that Mihael had never once said. Lines were drawn in the snow and filled in with blood as he spoke and Mihael felt his heart break, but Mello stayed calm.

"No. Why is Mello religious?" He asked the question liked he actually cared, black eyes shooting up to match Mello's.

"Because even demons need absolution." And with that he brought the butt of the gun down onto Near's temple and he heard the crack but he was at the door before he could see the trickle of blood mix with the white curls to create a bloody version of a Pollock painting.

He made it out of the hotel and down the stairs and ran flat out into the remains of snow still kissing the concrete with the determination of horny teenagers, not breathing, not thinking, not remaining on any conscious plane as his feet slammed with irregular thuds until he was far far far away.

He threw himself into a phone booth and pulled out the coins he'd snatched off of Near's desk next to his favorite pack of cards. They went on the top of every castle. Mihael felt his stomach clench and he struggled hard to hold in the vomit rising up to choke him in a physical embodiment of his guilt. Mello just grit his teeth hard and pushed it down with the ease of a pro. He slid the coins in, just now beginning to feel the cold in his fingers.

The phone rang twice and then clicked live.

"L?"

A breath.

He gave his address and hung up, sinking down under the phone stand and curling into himself.

* * *

L had fucked Light hard for an hour, which had left them an hour to get ready for his father and then another half hour for L to make sure to drink as much vodka as he could stomach on the ride over.

He brought two bottles from his cabinet into the Rolls and ignored the subtle wide eyed looks Light was sending him. Vodka went with everything after all and that included itself. Vodka with Vodka. Best cocktail ever invented as far as L was concerned.

He didn't want Light to meet Alexei, but Alexei had insisted in very certain and specific and horribly graphic terms the consequences that would befall L if he failed to present the young man. Some of them would have even made Light's presence pointless, if Alexei was really determined to punish L enough to cut off the potential of grandchildren.

L sighed and buried his head into Light's shoulder, enjoying faint aroma of still lingering morning cologne and fresh soap from their post sex shower.

"He can't be that bad for you to be going all cuddly on me. Or have you just had too much vodka?" L grimaced.

"He is and I haven't. Besides, isn't this what all young men want? A lover that's emotionally sensitive enough to show it even in public?" Light snorted.

"We're in the back of a luxury vehicle with tinted windows rolled up and the soundproof divider up as well. The intercom is off and can only be hit on by our side. How on earth is this you being affectionate in public?" L took another shot.

"You're here. Hence, public." L felt he had made his point flawlessly and without any slurring and didn't understand why Light was now taking his bottle away from him and storing it in the car's mini fridge.

"Eat." Light said, holding up a plate of cookies that had been spirited out of the mini fridge as easily as the vodka had disappeared.

"Absolutely not. If I eat now, I'll be perfectly sober by the time we see my father." Light nodded patiently and L waved him and his cookies off with an impatient brush of the hand. They boy didn't understand. Seeing Alexei wasn't an event to be taken lightly or soberly. So much so that it was accepted fact by any sane person in the know to never see Alexei without at least two firearms on hand and hopefully a few more weapons hidden. L was family, so instead of the guns he kept bottles. And guns.

They finally drove up to the bratva's pet restaurant, owned by a cousin or something of someone who was once or maybe still was important, L had never bothered to learn. That had always annoyed Alexei. L's lack of discipline when it came to caring about his own family's members, but almost encyclopedic knowledge of the other crime families rosters, down to the table boys. L wondered if he purposefully blocked out learning names at this point just to further push his father's buttons.

Probably.

Entering the restaurant was like walking into the set of a movie that had been watched so many times the film had hazed over and become fuzzy at the edges. The smoke was thick in the air, chocking lungs and vision alike and L waved through it while Light coughed behind him.

He led the boy through a weaving trail in between the tables, making sure the bratva members present got a good look. The boy would now be marked as off limits and the thought comforted L even as his discomfit rose at the looming sight of the curtained entrance to the hallway that then led to his father's private dining room.

Paranoid? The Loginovs?

Never.

He brushed aside the velvet like cliché it was and trod with loud stomps to the room, hoping it sounded brutish enough. He did so have a reputation to uphold. A quick swing of the wrist on lacquered wood later and he was staring into the face of one of the most powerful men in the world, and certainly the most powerful in L's.

"Father."

Alexei sat in all his stolen glory at the head of an empty table lined with every Russian delicacy their hard ground and frozen lakes could offer. It was less of a meal for three and more of a boast of power and L wanted to roll his eyes and tell him to shove his caviar up his ass, but instead he sat down politely once Alexei had nodded, taking up the right hand seat as he had always been instructed to.

"Mr. Loginov." Light bowed politely and settled in next to L, where he then began to eye the table and if L guessed correctly, trying to place what dish was what.

"Light Yagami, if my sources tell me correctly? Tell me, what is your involvement with my son?" Light's cheeks immediately pinked and L glared at his father while the man smirked behind his wine.

"He's my lover." L answered, reaching out for a piece of black rye bread and rubbing caviar onto it before topping it with smoked salmon. He grabbed a mug of the always served kvas to toss it down with.

Alexei smiled slowly, that smile that L had inherited and chose never to use in case he accidentally caught himself in front of a reflecting surface while doing so.

"I'm aware of that Lawliet, I was asking the _boy_ for a reason. His inability to answer should indicate to you that he is too young to be such." Alexei settled back and took a long draft off of his kvas that was being rotated with the wine and L did the same, not even wincing as the familiar thick ale that was almost bread dough viscosity sloughed its way down his throat. Disgusting stuff, but it finished clean.

"He did not fail to answer; I merely superseded him in such because I do not wish for him to be a part of any of your little mind games. Pass the borscht." It was passed and L gave some to Light who was still looking a bit confused, despite the fact that they were speaking English now to keep and puzzlement to a minimum.

"I'm told you are a performer?" Alexei asked over L's head, staring at Light with raised eyebrows. L bit hard into his bread.

"I'm a professional musician, sir. I'm quite popular in Japan, Korea, Taiwan, China, and the Philippines." Light's voice was polite, but L bit his lip in lieu of his bread in amusement at the steel spine of pride and ego behind the extended country list. Young, foreign, and in the presence of a mafia boss and the boy's vanity could still not be beaten.

L could fall in love with someone like that.

"Is that so? I was under the impression that 'rapping' was more like talking quickly and rhyming words." Alexei waved his hand dismissively and Light flashed a champion's smile, hard earned from laser whitening and two awkward years of braces pictures that still splashed website pages the world over. L had looked them over with Light sleeping next to him in bed.

"Actually, it's very difficult. I compose my own music along with lyrics and the traditional rhyme style of hip hop music is innately out of sync with Japanese sentence composure. But if you want more traditional musician talk, I also play both the piano and violin and have used both extensively in collaboration with my other musical work." Alexei actually looked satisfied and L wanted to kiss the golden boy beside him for being such a magnificent package of confidence and people skills. Light may be his only son's gay lover, but he was also the sort of man Alexei liked to hire- young, smart, and good with his mouth. L liked the same thing, but the choice in mouth skills varied greatly between the two.

"Intriguing. I confess now I am interested in hearing you perform. Perhaps such a thing can be arranged; I seem to recall there is a family dinner coming up at the end of the month. Lawliet, would you agree to such a thing?"

Of course, because family dinner couldn't be put off for the slowly descending axe N was swinging at them. Such a thing would spread such rumors. And rappers were such a welcome addition and traditional too! Maybe Light could do a round of the ol' bratva hymnal with Mello.

L wondered took another long draft off his beer and wondered how he was still so drunk.

"Perhaps. I suppose it would-" L's phone rang shrill and Alexei merely arched an eyebrow at the intrusion while L stared at it dumbly before picking it up. He said nothing, waiting for the other person to speak and when he did so L's body immediately unclenched a hidden amount of tension that had been growing from the back of his neck all day. He noted the address and sent a text to the driver to pick the boy up before snapping his phone shut.

"Who was that?" Alexei asked, voice polite but L winced nonetheless.

"Mihael." Alexei tilted his head slightly and he considered L with a smoky inscrutable gaze, the kind L had learned to imitate but had never mastered.

"That is acceptable." Dinner continued then after with only spurts of conversation, questions tossed out of nowhere at Light about his choice in clothes to his family to his schooling from Alexei, who moved on a stream of consciousness that was intimidating to be a victim to in conversation.

Light did his best to clear the table and L was glad he'd had the foresight to fuck the boy before they came to ensure he'd be hungry. Russian manners dictated that as little food as possible be left on the table and L was a natural black hole so it wasn't a problem, but Light had been raised with Japanese manners and appetite. That simply wouldn't have done for the occasion.

Finally, L was dismissed by Alexei answering his phone and beginning a long conversation in Russian in which Light wasn't privy to the details and L was glad for it since they mostly consisted of body counts and dead FBI agents.

L took his cue for what it was and stood and walked out, Light catching on after a few dazed seconds in which he tried to stand but discovered he was now ten pounds heavier.

They left through the back, pushing through waiters and cooks with no thought on L's part and finally hit Moscow twilight air, smoggy and cold and familiar.

The Rolls rolled around the back and L waved it forward and threw open the door, holding it for Light to get in before he clambered in after.

Mello was settled on the inside, smoking a cigarette and looking like a God of Fetish Fabric in an open silk blouse and too tight leather pants that were stuffed into his familiar combat boots. L wondered if Mello's father had known how Mello would style his boots, if he still would have passed them along.

Light was politely staring at the closed off skylight.

"Mello, meet Light. Light, meet Mello. Now don't talk, I'm going to drink until I don't have a headache."

* * *

Near had cleaned the blood that had seeped everywhere slowly and made the arrangements for the body to be sent back to the States on his own personal jet. He had instructed Wammy to leave him alone for the rest of the day and even consider retreating to the orphanage for the remainder of the case.

Mihael was Mello.

Or more pressing, L was Lawliet Loginov. Near had put the pieces together the moment the bullet had exploded into Gevanni's head with a hand that was steadier than a rock filled boudoir made of petrified wood. Mihael had been a good shot, but Near had always felt superior whenever the two had played around in L's underground range.

Mello was excellent in a way Near could never be without shooting men himself. There had even been a difference in the way his mouth was held, no longer full and looking ripe for kissing, his lips had pressed together hard and teeth seemed grit shut. It terrified Near.

How much had been an act? How wrong had he been?

But those were personal contemplations and now he needed to focus on the fact that L was Lawliet Loginov. The same Lawliet that Near had always written off as a bad joke, the weak son of a strong man, the heir to a horse bigger than he could ever hope to mount. Lawliet was suppose to make N's job easier someday by taking over and immediately sending the bratva spiraling into civil war. It was now obvious that such was a dream wasted.

Still, this did leave N with new options. After Near had woken from his unexpected floor nap, he had done some searching. Lawliet had let himself be on the news, most likely in his bid to catch Mello's attention. It was a clever move, but it relied too much on N's ignorance. Ignorance he was no longer burdened with thanks to Mello's performance. N wasn't sure how, but his mind had finally made sense of the puzzle pieces floating around in his gray matter, all of a sudden the picture coming clear with Lawliet Loginov written all over it. And now, he could finally move with clear vision.

Slowly, N typed in the international number, punching the numbers carefully as his voice scrambler clicked on.

"Chief Yagami of the NPA- This is N. Do you know where your son is?"

* * *

**Author's Note**- I'm pleased with this oh so much. I dunno, maybe I'm just pleased with everything these days but this chapter made me happy even though it really really shouldn't have. Sorry Gevanni. I really am. I love you lots man and wish you could have stayed but ummmm. Yah. Sorry.

Methinks I have a problem with blowing people's brains out btw. Second time this has happened in one of my fics, and not nearly the last. Scratch that, second time it's happened in _this _fic. Third overall.

So, this chapter marks a turning point because I now definitively known exactly how FRWL will end. I've always vaguely known my end point, but now I know how and who and why and it really scared me for a minute. I was like noooooooooooooo! A finished fic! Whatsoever will I do! But don't worry, there's still plenty of Russia left. Anywhere between 5-10 chapters by my estimation, so definitely a couple of months left.

Exciting things in this chapter-

1) Every use of Mello vs. Mihael, N vs. Near or L vs. Lawliet is _completely _intentional. There is meaning behind it.

2)Writing L's drunken tone made me laugh my ass off.

3)ALEXEI! Guys, can you see it? Can you see where I'm going with him? Oh tell me you can. I worked so hard on very little things that go back to the very _first_ chapter. It's all there! Hanging out in the subtext!

Peace! And _yes_, you loyal reviewers. I'm off to write Tale right this second. I promise. I have a WHOLE WEEK off of school starting tomorrow and I vowed to update all of the fics at least once. GCBC has already been done, Russia is now complete, Tale is next. After that, we'll see. I might finish up some one shots or keep the ball rolling with GCBC and Russia. Who knowsssssssssss?

Kisses chickipeas!,

-wordbombs


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